Purple Rabbit on Vacation

Hiya Purple Rabbit here.   🐰💜 I've received a  big promotion from chew toy to full-fledged house stuffy — that’s a major career leap in the stuffy world.  

Today marks the day that I, Purple Rabbit, have officially joined the ranks of the traveling companions.

My expedition team: Choya and Grinnel — veteran adventurers with refined taste and a good sense of direction (both essential qualities, I’ve learned). We prepared for my adventure the night before.  Don't worry, one bottle of wine for 3 stuffies is nothing to worry about.

I’m Purple Rabbit: once a chew toy, now a traveler. And today, the world feels wide open and wonderfully soft.

 Check it out, me using the elevator - how sophisticated.

What a world outside?  The restaurants are closed up but I'm hopeful they will open for me. It's rainy but I can sit outside, I am a former chew toy you know. 

The Puget Sound is so pretty. This park is not open to dogs but a huge underwater park a virtual playground for scuba divers.

Do you see the Olympic Mountains in the background? 

This morning I tried my very first iced coffee. Well — the roommate ordered it, but I got to hold the cup for a photo, which I think makes me an official participant. The ice tinkled like wind chimes, and the coffee smelled bold and a little mysterious — the kind of scent that makes you feel like you’re part of something bigger.

Behind us, a Washington State  ferry drifted past — bright white and stately against the bluish sky. My roommate pointed and said that if the schedule works, we might hop on later as walk-on passengers. Imagine that: me, Purple Rabbit, who once lived on the floor under a dog bed, now possibly boarding a boat.

The marina feels like a pocket of calm carved out of the world — sunlight glinting off the water, masts swaying gently like tall, lazy metronomes keeping time with the breeze. I’ve never seen so many boats in one place.

The roomate told me each boat has its own story — where it’s been, who’s laughed on its deck, what storms it’s seen. I wonder if boats talk to each other when everyone’s gone. Maybe they compare sunsets or trade secrets about the tides.

It’s the kind of fall day that feels like a reward for making it through summer. The air is crisp but kind, carrying the faint scent of salt and cedar. The leaves near the dock have started to blush gold and copper, drifting down in slow spirals that land on the still water and float away toward the sound.

It's a good day to be a stuffy on the move and frankly who knew the world was such a big place.