Dave and Vinny: Winnie the Wise

The clatter of dominoes and the low hum of conversation were the usual soundtrack to a Thursday evening at the Rampant Horse. Dave, nursing a pint of mild, watched as Vinny, his face a picture of intense concentration, tried to teach Scraps to sit. Scraps, a scruffy terrier of indeterminate origin, seemed to view the exercise as a personal affront.

“He’s not interested, Vin,” Dave said, a smirk playing on his lips. “He’s got more important things to do, like sniffing out dropped pork pie.”

Vinny sighed, offering Scraps a final, unheeded command. “He’s a free spirit, our Scraps. Can’t be tamed.” He slid onto the stool opposite Dave, pushing his untouched pint of bitter closer. “Speaking of free spirits, I was reading something the other day, proper eye-opener it was.”

“Oh aye?” Dave raised an eyebrow. “Not another one of your online conspiracies, is it? Last week it was whether the moon landing was faked because the flag was flapping in no wind.”

“No, nothing like that,” Vinny scoffed, taking a swig of his beer. “This was about Winnie the Pooh.”

Dave nearly choked on his mild. “Winnie the Pooh? You’ve been reading Winnie the Pooh?”

“It’s about positive mental health, Dave,” Vinny said, dead serious. “All those characters, they’ve got their struggles, but they’re always there for each other. Pooh’s got his honey addiction, Piglet’s a worrier, and Eeyore… well, Eeyore’s just Eeyore.” He gestured vaguely towards the bar, where Ken…