Sasha Doll

Sasha was a comet strike between a name, a face and a fabric purchase -- all on a beautiful autumn day. The story about her hair is a bittersweet one. Before I retired that fall, one of the cats would leave a ball of mohair yarn at the back door on Fridays. One Friday, a strand ran from my upstairs sewing room, all though the house to the ball at the back door. When our coon cat Sanford was killed by a car, we knew it was him; the yarn trick stopped. This doll eulogizes that fellow. Fortunately, in life there are other Sashas and other cats. So we can make her your way.