I’ve been thinking quite a lot about hunny pots lately.
Not that I don’t think about hunny pots quite a lot normally. I do. In fact, I think about them so much that sometimes I forget to think about other things. Piglet says this is probably because I have a very small head, but I don’t think that’s quite it.
You see, there has been an awful lot of talk lately about hunny pots. Important people, very clever people, and people who have all sorts of important things to do have apparently been getting themselves into rather a lot of trouble over them. Some have even suggested that hunny pots are being used to trick people into doing things they wouldn’t ordinarily do.
Well, I know a thing or two about that.
It happened one afternoon while I was out for a little stroll. I hadn’t planned on looking for hunny, although I wouldn’t say I wasn’t hoping to find some. There’s a difference, you see. Anyway, I came across a rather lovely pot sitting all by itself. It was just the right size, and it smelled ever so nice.
Now, I know what you’re thinking. Why would anyone leave a perfectly good pot of hunny sitting out in the middle of the Hundred Acre Wood?
I thought about this for a little while.
Then I thought about the hunny.
And then I thought that perhaps it would be rude to leave it sitting there all by itself.
So I had a little taste.
And then another little taste, just to make sure the first taste was as good as I thought it was. And before I knew it, I had eaten quite a lot of the hunny and found myself in a rather sticky situation.
It was only afterward that I began to wonder whether the whole thing had been planned.
Perhaps someone knew I would come along. Perhaps they knew that if they left a pot of hunny in just the right place, I would find it awfully difficult to walk past.
I’ve since spoken to Piglet about what happened. He was very concerned, although he did ask whether there was any hunny left. I told him there wasn’t, which seemed to make him rather sad.
Christopher Robin has advised me to be more careful about these things. He says that not everything that looks like hunny is necessarily as innocent as it seems. I told him that I quite agree, although I still think it’s important to be polite when someone leaves you a little something to eat.
I don’t want anyone to think that I’m blaming the hunny. Hunny is hunny, after all. It doesn’t know where it’s been or who’s put it there. And I certainly don’t want anyone to think that I’ve stopped enjoying it. That would be a very silly thing to suggest.
But I do think we should all be a little more careful about the pots we find along the way.
As for me, I’ve decided that from now on, I’ll try to ask a few questions before getting my paws into anything. Where did the hunny come from? Who left it there? And, perhaps most importantly, is there enough to share?
Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned from all of this, it’s that you can be a very sensible bear most of the time and still find yourself in a bit of a sticky situation.
And if you’ll excuse me, I think I hear a little something calling my name.
It sounds rather like hunny.
