Chatty Cathy Gets The Treatment

Peek-A-Boo everyone.
Blue bear and I have been asked by the bears at Dear Teddy to share my story with everyone about my beloved Chatty Cathy.
I loved my Chatty Cathy so much. I think I was about five years old when I got her.

Oh my she was so pretty and she could talk and everything.
I was so excited to get her for Christmas.

And then one day I thought I would play like I was a hair dresser and give her a new hair do. After all, I had just cut my own hair for the first time so I thought I would cut hers too.
But, something just didn't go right and her hair got all messed up.

I also thought that Cathy really should have a bath and put on some new clothes and this happen. I tore her pretty dress all up. It ripped.

My next idea to try and help fix things up was to try putting on more make up for her. But my mom wouldn't let me have any make up so I had to use an ink pen I found.
I know, I know, this is starting to look pretty bad.
By now my mom was really upset and Cathy was just a mess.
So I tried and tried to take off the ripped dress so she could have some new clothes and then her arm fell off.

By the time I got done I was really really upset and crying and everything. I had destroyed my pretty new Chatty Cathy. I promise I don't know what happened to her eye. Unless it was when I did sneak into my mom's bathroom and get her mascara and eyebrow pencil.

I'm so sorry Chatty Cathy. I still miss you.


Well it's time to get back to work.
Blue bear and I have to write a special post for Mimi too about BlogBlast For Peace.
Oh yes Blue Bear has World's Greatest Mom written on his tummy. I'm glad I learned how to cut hair, help with make up, and clothes.
See ya' Later!

Submitted by Jackie (aka: Shinade) of The Painted Veil

wHat A beaR wiTh nO nAme??

He was made for me when I was a baby by a friend of the family, so I know he is 100% unique!

He has been through a lot with me, all my childhood ups and downs and now he is retired and spends his days sitting in a cupboard.

He's not a traditional bear, and in recent years people have called him down right ugly, but I don't care, he was the one who got me through some bad times as a child.

He went to teddy bear hospital (my Mum) several times as his arms kept working loose.

His clothes are rather odd and holey, and I really don't remember where they came from - I can't imagine they were the original ones!

Posed by conributed by lady banana

A gIrL nAmEd SuE..........

Now my bottox lips have gone down, I feel now I can go out in public once again.

Also I would like to introduce you to my life long companion SuE (how beautiful are those baby blues?)

SuE has been with me since the early 70s. She is 10 years younger than me and certainly keeps me on my toes.
I first met SuE when my 'cuddler' won her at a church bizarre.. she had to play guess the name of the doll.. and yes it was SuE that she guessed.

SuE and I in recent years have been hidden in the top of a wardrobe together but over the years we have travelled around the UK with our 'cuddler' as she forged her career (I have no idea what that is but I saw something on TV about it once, I think?)

Nowadays I call my loverly SuE '1 shoe SuE' (my how we laugh..) as my 'cuddler' (foolishly in my book) allowed her off spring to cuddle her. She had a few tough years there I can tell you, I was so worried for her.

'Cuddlers' child insisted in undressing her and dressing her up again and again in various outfits that she had and as a result she lost 2 pairs of socks, a shoe and I know I shouldn't say this here but her knickers too... oh she also came in contact with those evil things called 'felt tipped pens' .. she has been 'made up' and wiped clean on more than one occasion, I can tell you.

However, she is still my SuE who has shared my life. She doesn't say much and she is blond like our 'cuddler'.. I will let you make up your mind about that one ...

Now my bottox lip swelling has gone down she will now be seen out with me... I think as the sun is still shining we will go for a picnic..... a teddy bear one of course!!

mAn, BeAr, CaR oR LeGenD?

Mister Woppit..........

"…as you all know was the racing partner of the late great Donald Campbell. Mr Woppit was a British made car and boat racing teddy who broke eight world speed records in the 1950s and 60s. He remains the only teddy to set both land and water speed records in the same year (1964).

Mr Woppit survived the boat crash in which Campbell died in 1967 but was driven into hiding by the media frenzy that followed the tragic accident. Some say he has been spotted base jumping in the Himalayas and also surfing spots such as Jaws and Teahupoo but without photographic evidence I fear this is just an unsubstantiated rumour that die hard Woppit fans have fabricated to ease the hard truth of his inevitable demise. More likely are the rumours that he sank into a quagmire of drugs and prostitution searching for that elusive high that he had in his tiny furry hands as a young ted…

However his memory lives on again as his name and instinct for riding the edge of sanity have been taken on by a daring blogger from the jungles of South London.

Blending fact and fiction into a melange of wit and hilarity I give you Mr Woppit (and yes - it’s a present so you can’t give it back).

Strangely I went to school with this man so I can vouch for his ability to bear the mantle of such a tiny stuffed toy."

I wonder if Mr W can be persuaded to tell us some fascinating tales of his life....??

osted by ..... courtesy of

The Doll or Her or Raggedy......

I find myself sitting here at the computer after being plucked from the top of a wardrobe (dusty wardrobe, cough, cough.)

Before I was plonked here, I was subjected to all manner of stupid photographs. I am not looking my best at the moment and the last thing I wanted was to be bloody photographed, sheesh. You can even see my bloomers! What kind of respect am I being shown?

Apparently I have not been of any use for many a year now, although 'herself' has assured me that I am a much-loved memory. Yes memory, here I am in all my stuffed glory, yet I am referred to as a bloody memory.

'Herself' has always been quite ungrateful in appreciating me, but after seeing what happened to the others I consider myself quite lucky (insert shudder here).

My name is 'The Doll' or 'Her' or 'You' or if she is feeling generous 'Raggedy', creative sod wasn't she. I was given to 'herself' on the day of her birth, so I have decided that is when I was born too. If you try and imply that I am older than nearly 27, then I will send a horde of Chuckie dolls after you, just saying. The uncle of 'Herself' bought me for her and I still haven't exacted my revenge on that fella for doing that to me.

Herself was never a lover of dolls and if you knew what she had done to her poor sister's dolls you would weep, weep I tell you. For some reason she has taken good care of me, although I still await a new pair of felt lips, I have only waited 20 years for them (HINT).

If I where her I wouldn't treat me so shabbily, especially now that I have this new outlet. Herself maybe should think about some of the things I have overheard, like the accident she had in church that time (it wasn't a wet your pants incident). Then again she does scare the crap out of me and although she says she is a reformed character, I don't think I should risk it!

Arggh she is coming! Shhhhhhhhhhhhhh...

.............................post written by A Little Piece of Me

Johnny's tale

I am a bashed about bear with the name of Johnny.


It's not a name I would have chosen myself but my young 'cuddler' thought it suited me fine. When she was six and I was very nearly the same height as her, she would dress me in baby clothes, much to my annoyance.

I am a male bear forced into wearing frilly dresses that hid even bigger flowery bloomers. To make matters worse, I made a fantastic grisly bear growl when I was turned upside down. I didn't mind being hung up by my legs but hated the fact the dress would drop down to reveal my shreddies (knickers to you).

Whatever game was happening with the family I lived with (three girls and a boy), I always made an appearance. I think my height made me have an advantage over the small Action Man or Barbie and all those farm toys that would be placed around me as I was plonked onto the duvet (an imaginary field).



I had many homes as we moved often, 13 times to be precise, but I was always taken along, and if I played my cards right always had a place on a warm knee in the car as we drove to a new house.



The household eventually disbanded as the children grew to be adults and flew the nest, and the parents retired.



I ended up somehow living in my owners sister's house. And one day she de-cluttered her home and took me along with a lot of other toys and books and clothes to the local tip in the centre of the universe.



I am ok ... I now live in a dump along with other unwanted bears and well loved children's toys waiting to be recycled. I may come back as garden compost, or a pack of recycled envelopes or if I am lucky even a charm bracelet.

.................................................................[post provided by Sunny at Random Place of Mind]

PIGLET

I think my name is Piglet, nobody really knows - I was found abandoned at a bus stop when I was very young. My rescuer [who was a nearly grown up Girl of three and three quarters] took me home with her, and has been my faithful companion ever since - I think I have forgiven her for the ten year sojourn at the bottom of a packing case.
I've needed a bit of surgery from time to time; having suffered from Stitchup Perishonitis in a couple of places, but mostly I'm in pretty good shape for a fiftymumble year old. Sadly the same cannot be said for my Faithful Companion, I may have to trade her in for a new one.

I'm Drowsey!

Hello! LOL!

I landed under a little girl's Christmas Tree long, long ago in a place far, far away (well, it was about 1970 in Canada).

From the start I could tell I was going to like this little girl, mostly because she was so darn cute. Plus she had lots of love to give a little doll like me.

Back in those days I could talk and say stuff like, "I want another glass of water" and “I’m sleepy”. The little girl was really good at imitating me too, which was funny.

I can't talk anymore because of an unfortunate bath the little girl gave me. Oh well, I was dirty and my hair was all messed up. Losing my voice was just the price I paid for her not understanding my internal mechanical mechanisms.

As the little girl got older she forgot about me and one day I was packed into a box and put in the basement for about 15 years! Freedom came one glorious day when the little girl’s mom opened the box and saw me. I brought back happy memories and she took me upstairs and sat me in a rocking chair in a pretty room with lots of sunshine.

As time went on I got to see all the comings and goings in the busy house. But one day everyone moved away and it was just me and the furniture left behind. We didn't understand why. Years went by. It was very quiet and sad.

Finally, one day the grown-up little girl walked in! When she saw me she was so surprised and happy! She hugged me and laughed and then said something about me smelling funny … and apparently my hair was all messed up again!

So she gave me a bath and I was ever so happy! She made sure I was all pretty and even found a pair of pyjamas her mom had made and put them on me and … ohhh they were so comfy, even if they were a bit big.

Then, just when I thought I was going to be packed into a box again she put me on the dash of the car (see the photo above) and took me on a long road trip to her home!

Yay! LOL!

Now here I am (without my jammies) sitting next to her computer where she writes her blog. She tells me I'm her inspiration. Cool!

~This Toy Story submitted by Drowesy of DrowseyMonkey