A Boy and His Duck

Ducky and I have an appointment at a local long-term care facility on Saturday.

Yes, I've decided I finally need a good rest so I'm checking in. Three squares a day, you know.

Kidding. (Sort of.)

In my newspaper column this week (Feb. 6) I wrote about the pending demise of Ducky, my son's beloved knit toy. He and Ducky have been best mates and sleeping buddies since before Boychild was a year old.

Ducky is a wise old duck. Okay, well, he's old, anyway. My Nan knit Ducky for my little brother when he was just a wee gaffer, so Ducky's gotta be waddling up on 30 years. That's about 342 in duck years, I think. As you can imagine, having a little boy cart you around for a good five years can wear a fella down.

Over the years I have managed to complete some rather haphazard repairs on Ducky - sloppy stitches here and there as little holes opened up and some extra stuffing crammed in from time to time. The trouble is, Ducky is literally wearing thin. That 30-year-old cheery yellow yarn has been loved to bits.


We need to save Ducky for fear there will be no sleep in the house. Besides, he's an artifact - an heirloom.

The thing of it is, I can't knit. My mom can't knit. We are severely knitting challenged.

I proposed stitching a newborn T-shirt onto Ducky to hold him together, but that will not do. Boychild says Ducks do not wear clothes. I think Boychild has it in his head that something can be done to make Ducky exactly the same as he was - only all better. I suggested we could stitch a knit patch made of the same cheery yellow yarn around the thin spots, and that seems to be okay.

I have a couple of friends who can knit and had said they could help out. Nevertheless, I thought bartering for knitting sounded like a fun column topic, so I wrote about my almost-desperate plight and my willingness to dance, sing, bake a cake, write a poem, wash windows, mop floors or do almost anything in exchange for a suitable piece of knitting.

Lo and behold, the calls start coming in. The mother of the lady across the street could help me out, for one. I was most intrigued, however, by the call from a friend who volunteers at a local long-term care home.


Seems (or seams) a group of ladies gather each Saturday afternoon for a knitting session. Bring the kids, bring the duck and a team of knitters would be at our disposal to repair Ducky.

That's why you gotta love small towns, eh? I'll let you know how it all turns out.

(Image: Boychild and Ducky, sometime in 2007. Note the masterful stitchwork on the duck's side....)