Fixer-Upper: The Camark Cat's Tale

     I am not, nor have I ever been, a crazy cat lady.
     Except maybe once.
     For reasons undisclosed, therapy, perhaps, I took up collecting Camark Pottery.
     Maybe because I'm from Camden and grew up with the stuff (ooops, pottery) on every flat surface of our house, there was a degree of nostalgia involved with these mid-century art pieces. There was a green cigarette box with a gosh-awful blooming rose on the lid. A few Camark ashtrays were strategically placed on side tables, one in the shape of a small skillet. A cream pitcher sported a colorful parrot handle, and a red Razorback snarled and grunted atop a football. There was more, of course.
      In an area of south Arkansas known for its winding Ouachita river and stately, sheltering pines, catty-cross Truman Road from our house, lived the Wagnon family. Their front yard boasted one of the largest pine trees in the neighborhood. On that giant pine-straw and pollen producer, forever in mid-climb, rested a now-rare Camark climbing cat. These cats were not just at Johnny's and Anna's house, they were everywhere. After all, Camark Pottery employed over 100 people in its heyday and the inventory was extensive. Camden residents owned and used Camark Pottery pieces, especially the French-influenced climbing cat.
     Noting some garish colored pieces, I thought the overall collection was knick-nacky-tacky and a real throwback to Ward, June, Wally, and the Beave. However, hunting for it, finding it, and escaping with a treasure while paying next to nothing for it was diversion. Collecting Camark Pottery provided an outlet for stress and was far less expensive than nerve pills.
      On one trip to Paducah, KY, I found the iconic S (salt) and P (pepper) shakers for a pittance. During the 1950's,the S/P pair lived on formica-topped kitchen tables all across Camden, originally designed to encourage Sales and Profit among Camark employees.  I could not, however, find a Camark Cat.
     That's when I became a "crazy cat lady."
      Telling my fellow collectors that I'd steal the cat from anyone's tree should I happen to see one along the side of the road, I had my eyes peeled for just such a treasure, anywhere and at anytime. We girls were known to screech to a halt should a treasure appear on the side of the road, as long as our hair and manicure did not get trashed.
     One day, while on a Spring Break excursion to Gulf Shores, we ventured toward a little collecting before down-right shopping the Foley Outlet Malls. In an antique shop on a back street in Daphne, Alabama, I spied a white cat with tell-tale green eyes. My knees buckled; I almost fainted. Could it be? Might I have stumbled upon an honest-to-goodness Camark Cat?
     Employing all the stealth of my candy-stealing days at my family's drug store, I moseyed over to examine the cat. No sticker, but I'd memorized Letitia Landers' book about Camark Pottery and knew in a heartbeat this cat was the real deal. How I managed to steal this collector's dream for such a bargain price is part negotiating skill, part fake disinterest, and part good humor. I think the shop owner was having a slow day and our venture into his domain provided entertainment.
     That Daphne, AL, adventure took place about 15 years ago and only today did the Camark Cat once again climb a substantial pine tree.
      In my yard this time.