This is an Ode to Eeyore. Those of you who know me well well-know that for years I have shared my bed with a loyal, faithful, and fluffy companion, Eeyore. Eeyore has been my trusty bedfellow, lending me an ear, hoof, or even rump whenever extra support and comfort was needed. In 2003, he graciously accommodated another man by making room in the bed for Jason, sacrificing his limbs as padding for my spouse’s bony shoulders. He willingly accompanied me from coast to coast by car, van, and plane so that I might snooze sweetly, and even joined me in the hospital during the delivery of both my daughters.
Regrettably, Eeyore slipped away on the eve of May 28, 2008 to the landfill from whence no donkey returns. He heroically sacrificed his life by tumbling out of the mini-van to comfort Jason during Jason’s time of need. Unfortunately, he landed in the puddle of recycled McDonald’s salad that Jason had recently deposited on the side of I-80, thanks to a truly miserable bout of the stomach flu. Covered in vomit, Eeyore rapidly achieved “undesirable” status and was buried in a dumpster. (Fortunately the girls avoided a similar fate, despite their own battles with the stomach flu.) Eeyore was preceded in death by a quarter pounder and French fries.