What's in a Name?


Long before I started Crickle Pickle Knits, or even had knit my first doll, I had a name selected for my endeavour.


While I was still stuffing my relatives’ closets with knitted sweaters, ponchos and tote bags, I began to ponder a totally random question: “If I were to start up a knitting business, what would I call it?” At the time, I thought it highly unlikely, since knitting a sweater usually cost at least double what a store-bought version would be, so to make any money, I figured I would have to price it at an exorbitant (and unsellable) amount. So my entrepreneurial pondering, I thought, was strictly fantasy.


And what I came up with was Crickle Pickle Knits. Those closest to me could easily guess why I would choose such an unusual name, especially once they saw the logo I created - when I finally did launch my little business/hobby.


Her name was Cricket, a little Yorkie and Lhasa Apso cross, who shared our home for almost 15 years. We got her when she was too young to leave her mama, and she was needy from the start. But she was cute as a button, and she captured our hearts from the moment we set eyes on her. I had many pet names for her: Baby Girl, Sweet Pea, Pooh Bear, Cricklet, but most often I called her Crickle Pickle.


She wasn't perfect. She was needy and nervous and more than a little neurotic. But she was also loving and loyal and joyful and adorable and mischievous and uncannily clever. We never did manage to train her, she trained us. She loved spaghetti and rice and potatoes best - especially spaghetti. And in her younger years, she loved shoes: expensive, leather shoes that she managed to devour entirely, just leaving behind the soles. She adored my husband Ben, as he was working at home when she was just a wee pup, and I was at work most of the day. But she always slept on the bed curled up at my feet.


When I launched Crickle Pickle Knits, she was still very much with us. As I sat knitting in my craft room, she would curl up and sleep at my feet under my desk. A creature of habit, she had a very specific route to get there, always to the left of my desk chair, which, of course, was the most awkward path! It often ended up with her entangled in yarn, which in turn changed the loving moniker “Crickle Pickle”, to the rather abrupt “CRICKET!”, accompanied by a stream of expletives.


Oh how I wish she could be sleeping under my desk as I type this. Unfortunately in May 2021, with her health failing, we had to say goodbye to our dear friend. But we think of her every day, and we feel blessed to have had her for almost 15 years. And I am pleased that my tiny knitting business bears her name and her face, in loving tribute.


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