From time to time, my Mom would make me things. 

They were (and still are) each so special to me.

One of my favorites is my Dammit Doll.

It is a primitive triangular shaped blue cloth doll with white yarn hair and a silly little face.  But what is even better is it has a little poem ironed onto the front that says:

When things aren’t going as well as you wish,
and you just want to scream and shout;
Here’s a little dammit doll you just can’t live without!
Simply grab it by the legs, find a place to slam it;
and as you beat the livin’ stuffin’ out of it, yell:

And it’s a tough little fucker.  It spent many years at my work desk and regularly got slammed into my desk while I “yelled” dammit, dammit, dammit.  (This is to be expected when you work with lawyers.)  And it is still intact.

But I’m not the only one who loved the Dammit Doll.

My kitty, Esperanza (who has long since crossed the rainbow bridge), loved that doll. 

She would find it and snuggle with it and sleep with it and try to chew all the yarn hair off.  (Thankfully, she never succeeded, although the Dammit Doll does sport significantly less hair than it had when I first got it – and the lawyers never drove me to the point of tearing out my Dammit Doll’s hair.)

My Dammit Doll now sits with the ashes of all of my rainbow bridge crossers; but I know that Esperanza is the one who still claims it as her own.

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