In 1975, my family and I visited the Zayre department store. It was always filled with the promise of discovery, especially in the record and toy departments. Along the back wall of toys, a stretch of pegboard displayed the more budget-friendly options. Many parents favored these as a small treat.
I can still picture it vividly: no shelves, just pegboard rows from which toys dangled. Below, on the floor, sat the unique items, those singular toys that didn’t belong to any particular line. It was there that my brother and I encountered a curious toy. It was called Pet Ghost. This toy was from a now-defunct Orlando company named FunStuf.
The small box featured an illustration of a haunted house, complete with tiny ghost figures peering from the windows. The tagline boldly declared, “ABRA-CA-DABRA Now you can be the greatest magician of them all. With your Pet Ghost. He will obey your every command!” The box offered no glimpse of its contents, fueling our anticipation. We each chose one, eager to unravel the mystery of this “Pet Ghost” upon arriving home.
Was the thirty-minute drive home, thick with excited whispers, truly worth the wait? Perhaps not entirely. However, the toy proved to be a source of amusement. It held my attention far longer than my brother’s. Inside the box resided a small “ghost,” no more than three inches long, formed by a styrofoam ball draped in sheer white fabric. A sheet of four stickers allowed for personalization with eyes and hair, designating the ghost as either male or female. A collar sticker concealed the elastic band that secured the fabric to the foam head. The kit also included a spool of thread. It had a flimsy cardboard stage for performances. There were, of course, instructions on how to execute the magic trick.
Frankly, I lacked the patience for mastering the illusion – yes, it was a classic magician’s trick. Instead, I opted to have my ghost “float” beside me as I moved around. It wasn’t a flawless illusion, but from a slight distance, it looked surprisingly convincing. Unfortunately, the adhesive on the sticker eyes, hair, and collar wasn’t designed for the fabric surface. They inevitably peeled off, attracting dust to their sticky undersides until they were lost entirely. I recall resorting to a black marker to redraw the missing eyes.
While Pet Ghost might not have been the most spectacular toy of my childhood, it certainly etched itself into my memory. Years later, a nostalgic search on eBay led me to a brand-new, still-sealed Pet Ghost listed for $10. The “Buy It Now” button seemed irresistible. Now, this unwrapped piece of my past sits proudly on my bookshelf, a tangible link to childhood memories. It’s remarkable how such a simple toy, unattached to any popular cartoon or extensive product line, could leave such a vivid impression, even forty-five years later.
Don’t forget to check out other entries in my BASEMENT TOY BOX series!
I remember seeing this toy in a department store in another town around 1976. The box was cool and I recall wondering if I should get this or not. I finally decided I would give it a pass but I regretted that decision once I got home. I never saw another one and I always wondered what was really in the box. Thanks for posting this because until now I still never knew what it was but never forgotten it!
Hi Walter. I’m glad you enjoyed it!