Oh Pooh.

Call me Eeyore. Some years ago-never mind how long precisely-having little or no money in my purse, and a jackass partner who constantly brayed at me-with no reason to remain where I was-I wandered.

Some,when confronted with my situation, might take to the sea. Not me. My destiny is to wander the lea. To trod the pastures of my ancestors and dream the dream of a ‘Hundred Acre Wood’. A mythical realm in donkey lore, where an Eeyore, ever gloomy, still gets a hug (Oh. Sorry. Did I squeeze you too hard?) of affirmation.