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Cathy Returns

A couple of years ago, I blogged about my little doll, Cathy. The following is that blog.

"One Christmas when I was around four or five, Santa Claus brought me a little baby doll that drank and wet. She was really cute and had lots of blonde hair. I would feed her, diaper and redress her hourly it seemed.

After a short while, her little leg came off at the hip. Mother tried to fix it. With no success, she enlisted Daddy’s help. Although he could put the little leg back on, it wouldn’t stay. I began to cry and I was so sad because my little baby doll that Santa brought was broken.

Mother felt terrible about the damaged baby doll so she went to Miller-Gunn in town and bought me another baby as a replacement. (Later in my life, Mother told me that she’d paid $12.00 for her which was an enormous amount in those days.)

She was a much larger, more pliable baby. She had molded hair instead of the blonde mop of the first one. She smelled new. She drank and wet, too, but I was wiser with her. I fed her water no more than once a day so that I didn’t have to change her diapers so often.

Momo Johnnie had Mildred Thompson, a neighboring seamstress, to painstakingly make an entire wardrobe for her. I loved my new little baby doll so I wanted to give her a special name. From then on, I called her Cathy.

Cathy was my constant companion. Whether I went to Sunday School and church or over to any of my grandmother’s houses, I carted Cathy along with all of her baby gear.

I stored her wardrobe in a little trunk. The little dresses, pantaloons, and bonnets were hung nicely on small hangers. The outfit that I remember most clearly was a red corduroy cloak with a matching hat. Even in the heat of summer, Cathy looked radiant in it.

Cathy entertained me and accompanied me constantly for the next several years. After a while, I put Cathy up. That, in Southern/Texan terms means, I placed her in a safe place as a keepsake.

Barbie came along and rousted Cathy from the top spot for my affections. Momo Johnnie, Mother, and Mildred made Barbie clothes and they bought a few little outfits. Pretty soon, Barbie was as well dressed as Cathy had been.

I won’t go into detail here, but Cathy fell victim to our coon hound, Sandy. Although I had outgrown Cathy, I was still distraught. I think of Cathy every now and then. In fact, I’ve been searching the internet for another Cathy. I look at garage sales and shows, but I haven’t found one yet. But I’ll keep looking because anyone so dear to me should be found."

To complete this story, I must tell you that on Saturday, I found Cathy. I had been out shopping and decided to visit a sweet friend. She wanted me to see her doll and antique toy collection. Almost as soon as I entered the doorway, I saw her. . . Cathy. My eyes sweated. I just couldn't believe it. Needless to say, Bobbie wanted me to have Cathy. I took Cathy home, bathed her, washed her little dress and pressed it. I spent most of the rest of the evening playing with her. Sweet memories came rushing back. I found a sense of peace. Since Sunday was Mother's Day, I felt like all my little chicks were home once again. Pure bliss!