Dear, Dear Raggedy Ann. She is only 45 years old.
The stories she could tell.
She was with me since I was an infant. I took her everywhere.
I couldn't go to sleep without her.
I used to launder and iron her little clothes.
She rode along on my trike and then in my flowered bike basket.
I brought her along to my Gramma's house for a summertime visit (1970).
Against my wishes, I left her behind when I went to visit cousins. Pepe' the Mn. Poodle
chewed off her foot! My Gramma called my Mom LONG DISTANCE during the DAY
so worried about telling me! My brother, 5 years older than me, (age of 12) had to
sew on a new foot constructed from an uncle's black sock. Can you
imagine the "goings on" in that house all afternoon. My Gramma
was afraid to show me when I returned. I wanted to cry, but I was a big girl
and acted like it was okay.
Now let's fast forward to the 1990's.
I had the cutest little Miniature Schnauzer,
Buster was such a good boy. He was very smart.
He could do a lot of tricks. He was my baby before I had my son.
He was my true companion.
I had Raggedy sitting on a rocking chair in my bedroom.
I walked into my room to see her lying on the floor
with her eyes ripped off! Whatever possessed him to do that - I don't know.
I just don't know how to repair her. I don't think that I can.
Her material is soooo old. 45 years old.
She sits on my closet shelf. Staring at me with her poor
little shoe button eyes every time I open the door.
I'm afraid to take her out of the closet. I don't want to lose her eyes.
Afterall, she still means so much to me.
And Jacob pointed out through it all she still wears her smile!