The Holiday of Pooh-rim

Winnie the Pooh is in the public domain, so this story where he celebrates the Jewish holiday of Purim is perfectly legal.

B.C. Wallin
5 min readMar 17, 2022


The book Winnie the Pooh spills out of a satchel.
Photo by Mel Poole on Unsplash

It was morning, but Winnie the Pooh hadn’t noticed yet. All he could pay attention to was how lovely it might be to fly, if only he had a way of getting down. Pooh was high in the sky, right in the bluest part, when suddenly, there came a knocking sort of a noise. “Just a second,” said Pooh dreamily, “I’ll be right down.” He looked around for the stairs and couldn’t find them, so he just hoped the knocking might stop while he wandered over toward the nearest fluffy cloud. But the knocking kept coming, so Pooh opened his eyes, looked around at his room, and got out of bed.

Rabbit was outside, knocking on Pooh’s door and Pooh was inside, answering Pooh’s door. “Who is it?” asked Pooh. “It’s me, Pooh,” said Rabbit. “Oh, I’m sorry,” said Pooh. “I thought that was me.” “You thought you were knocking at your own door?” asked Rabbit. “No, I thought I was Pooh,” said Pooh.

“You are Pooh.”

“Then who is it?”

“Who is what?”


“Pooh, it’s me.”

“That’s good.”

“No, it’s Rabbit.”

“Oh, hello Rabbit. Why didn’t you say it was you?”

Rabbit stood for a moment wondering why he hadn’t said it was him and then wondered why he was wondering, since he knew who he was and he knew Pooh did, too, and he said “Pooh, can you open the door?” And Pooh opened the door with a smile. “Pooh,” said Rabbit, “I’ve brought you a little something.” “What sort of a little something?” “Why don’t you take a look?” And Rabbit handed Pooh a jar labeled HUNNY. “What does it say, Rabbit?” “Pooh, just open the jar!” And Pooh opened the jar. “Oh my!” “Yes, Pooh, now I’d really better be dashing off.” “Won’t you stay for some… something? I may have a little more in my… in somewhere.” “No Pooh,” said Rabbit, “I have to go now.” And off he hopped, away from Pooh’s home.

Pooh was just wondering where the rest of the honey had gone from Rabbit’s jar when he heard another knock at the door. “Who might that be?” the bear asked stickily, and he stumbled over that way. He opened the door, and it was Eeyore. “Eeyore, what are you doing here?” asked Pooh.

“Should I be doing it somewhere else?”

“No, I think that’s alright.”

“Good, it’s alright. The bear says I can be here, so I can be here.”

“Well, you are here.”

“I am.”

“Can I offer you something to eat?”

“No, that’s what I’m here to do.”

“Eeyore, I don’t understand.”

“You wouldn’t.”

And Eeyore revealed a jar of honey that he had been standing in front of. “Here you are, Pooh,” said Eeyore. “You’re here, and this is here. Here.” “What is this?” asked Pooh. “It’s yours,” said Eeyore, and he began to walk away. “No, Eeyore,” said Pooh, “stay and have some!” “Oh,” said Eeyore, “by the time I stayed, you wouldn’t want me here anyway.” And Eeyore tramped away, dragging his tail with him through the underbrush.

Pooh had one big, last glob of honey in his paw when there was another knock at the door. He didn’t want to keep anyone waiting, but he also couldn’t let that beautiful, golden, dripping… oozing… sweet, sweet, honey go to waste. By the third set of knocking, he was finished smacking his lips and cleaning his paw off just in case. He opened the door, and there were Kanga and Roo and Owl, too. Kanga was holding a jar of honey in her hand. Roo was pulling his out of his Momma’s pouch. Owl was perched on his, explaining to Kanga how exactly his second aunt had gone missing in an ash tree, despite his family’s distinct love for elm.

“Oh, Pooh,” said Kanga, “we wanted to give you something special.” “Yes, yes, of course,” said Owl, “and as I recall, it was a Wednesday, and quite a dismal part of the evening at that.” “Here you are Pooh, here you are Pooh!” said Roo excitedly, hoping Pooh would choose his jar first. “Oh my, “said Pooh. “All yours,” said Kanga, smiling warmly. “So then, you see, is when my third uncle went looking for her…” Owl dragged on. “I think we must be going,” said Kanga, “we hope you enjoy.” And she stepped away, pulling Owl around the shoulder, and helping him walk with her, too. Roo stayed for a moment and said, “Goodbye, Pooh!” Then he hopped quickly after his mother, but not too quickly to hear about the fourth cousin who disappeared, as well.

Winnie the Pooh was lying on the floor. He had five empty jars of honey next to him, and he would have supposed that just made them jars, but his head was somewhere back above the clouds, and he couldn’t convince it to come back down and start supposing. He was going to tell someone else to get the door when Piglet walked through it. “Hello Pooh,” said Piglet. “Hullo Piglet,” he said. “Pooh, did you notice anything special today?” “I might have,” said Pooh, “but there were so many unexpected visitors, I don’t think I had the chance to.” “Pooh,” said Piglet. “Piglet?” asked Pooh. “That was the something special.” Pooh tapped his head a couple of times, but it couldn’t explain what Piglet was saying.

“You see,” said Piglet, “today’s a sort of a special day. It’s time to be happy and eat and drink and do good things for our friends. And I thought, seeing as you’re our friend… well, that we might do some good things for you.” “Oh,” said Pooh, “that’s very thoughtful. But don’t ruin the surprise for me.” “No Pooh,” said Piglet, “we already did it.” “I must not have noticed it with all of these visitors.” Piglet shook his head. “Pooh,” he said, “they were the good things. We knew… I knew that you could usually enjoy a little something, and I told our friends to bring you some somethings to eat. It’s Purim today.” “Pooh-rim?” asked Pooh. “I guess so,” said Piglet.

“Pooh?” asked Piglet. “Piglet?” asked Pooh. “Can I give you my gift, too?” Piglet stepped away and struggled and pulled over a big jar of honey he had hidden to the side. “You know,” said Pooh, “I was just thinking it was about time for a little something. Though I think I thought that a few somethings ago. But maybe there’s a little more room between one something and the other.” “Right, right,” squeaked Piglet, “well, I really must be going.” And he began to scurry away. “Piglet,” said Pooh, “I wish I had gotten something for you.” “That’s alright,” said Piglet, turning around, “sometimes it’s nice to just give.” And Piglet began to leave again. “I think you’re right,” said Pooh, “care to join me?” “Me? Join you?” “For Pooh-day? Of course!” “If you’ll have me,” said Piglet, “I’d love to join!” And so, he did.



B.C. Wallin

Jewish writer with clips on Bright Wall/Dark Room, Polygon, Alma, Input, and Follow on Twitter @bcwallin for updates and tweets.