Our hummingbirds arrived on May 2nd this year. Nice to have them back!
(Yikes! I am so behind in my ABC-Along ... )

I’ve been struggling with “G.” Today as I passed our local Garden center and saw it all a=bloom with spring flowers, I couldn’t resist trying to capture their spring-y essence. At the same time I thought it might just fit for the ABC-Along. So, feast your eyes on their colors, inhale their sweet and heady fragrance and welcome spring. I hope you’ll enjoy my borrowed blooms!

I’ve been struggling with the letter “F” and finally decided to go back to Mexico again. These photos were taken at a roadside stand in Tulum, Mexico.

You might think eBay is a funny name for a cat and I guess I’d have to agree with you. Unless, of course, you know how she came by her name which I am about to tell you. So sit back and I’ll tell you a tale (or is that tail?) of a kitten that was meant to be ours.

We were into buying older Jane Wooster Scott corkboard puzzles on eBay when I came across a puzzle for sale that showed two calico cats in the photo along with the puzzle. They were the same kind of calico (mostly white with a “cape” on their backs) that was like my cat Patches that I had lost many years ago. I have always wanted another one marked the same way, so I wrote to the woman selling the puzzle and asked if she had the mother of the cats. I figured it was a long shot, but it wouldn’t hurt to try.

She wrote back saying that no, she did not have the mother but got them as kittens from a farm near where she lived. After a few email conversations went on back and forth with her I learned that while she lived in Iowa her son lived in Denver, a mere 50 miles away from me. (Remember we were living in Colorado then.)  She offered to go by the farm next time she was down that way and see if they had any calicos. Within a few days she emailed me to tell me that the farm did indeed have a few calicos. All the cats were feral and most of them giving birth in the chicken coops and living in not the best of conditions.

She sent photos of an older kitten (maybe about six months) and one that looked to be about four weeks old. We had reservations about taking a cat that had been feral for six months and trying to adapt it to our six-dog-two-cat-household. The kitten seemed a better bet. She then proceeded to tell me that she was driving out to visit her son within a few weeks and offered to bring the kitten to us! We figured the kitten would be old enough by then to leave its mother, so we chose the 4-week-old-ish kitten over the older one.

The day finally arrived and Debi called from Denver to say that they were on their way to our house. When she arrived I rushed out the door to meet my new little kitten. Debi held her out to me and my eyes could not believe what I saw. Whoa ... wait just a minute— this tiny “rat” without any hair and looking more like Yoda than a kitten could not be the beautiful kitten I had been expecting! It was the ugliest thing I had ever seen. Ever. We all went inside and Debi started to explain ...

Her husband had gone to the farm to pick up the kitten because Debi couldn’t go. What he (or Debi) didn’t realize is that there were several calico kittens, and he picked the first one he came to. Scooped her right out of the chicken coop she was born in. Only thing was, this particular kitten was probably only about 3 weeks old. She could not even potty herself yet and Debi and her friend had had to stimulate her by wiping her bottom with a wet rag the entire trip from Iowa to Colorado. She was as helpless as ... well, a newborn kitten! I tried not to show my disappointment in not getting a cute, furry, cuddly kitten instead of a rat but it was hard not to.

She was so tiny that I was afraid to let the dogs near her, so I put her in our bedroom in a cozy nest of blankets and closed the door. I checked on her from time to time and she was in a different spot in the room each time. She was having no trouble exploring her new environment. It was obvious that although she was tiny, she was a scrappy little thing!

When Rick got home he couldn’t quite believe it either. She was so ugly that she was kind of cute. She basically had no hair whatsoever, a little pot belly, four scrawny legs, and huge bat ears. We decided to introduce the dogs to her carefully and held her while the dogs inspected her. At first sniff one of our female Bernese, Margaux, jumped up on the bed with us and would not let any of the other dogs come close. She gave out a low growl and the others backed off. She was guarding that kitten like it was one of her own puppies!

Once in the room by herself with the kitten, Margaux took over as her mother. She pottied her and licked her until the poor thing was soaking wet. One swipe of her tongue lifted the kitten off her feet. She rolled over and made her nipples accessible so the kitten could nurse. Poor Margaux, she didn’t have any milk, but having had a litter of pups the year before was no stranger to knowing what to do. Even though the kitten was not getting any nourishment from this activity, it was providing her warmth and succor. (Not to mention the more obvious plus: getting pottied!) It became a ritual that throughout the day I would put them together for monitored bonding time.

eBay climbed all over Margaux and snuggled into her long fur. Here you can see her on Margaux’s back and standing to “nurse.”

Our other female, Mira, was not to be left out of this whole mothering scenario. She had been very jealous when Margaux got to have puppies and she wasn’t going to miss this chance to do her part. While Margaux had failed in the milk department, Mira managed to bring in milk for the kitten. I kid you not. Here they are caught in a nursing moment. Mira kept nursing eBay long after it was necessary. I think it brought them both a great deal of comfort.

Of course, this was not enough to sustain eBay. We fed her formula through a small syringe (bottle feeding did not work),  even getting up in the middle of the night when she woke mewing for food. We kept her in an small airline kennel by the bed so she was safe from being stepped on. I still have fond memories of her waking me up at the crack of dawn, mewing at the top of her tiny kitten lungs and clinging to the door of the kennel.

She began to flourish under the care and attention of our upside-down household. She started to look like a kitten—finally.

She accepted the dogs as she would another of her own feline contingent. Here she is with Sailor, who at the time was only about 7 months old himself.

When I was still feeding her formula via a syringe, it was very messy. She ended up with formula smeared all over her face. The area between her mouth and nose seemed to never come clean. It always looked like I’d missed a spot in cleaning her up. I scrubbed and scrubbed. It still looked dirty. eBay, why didn’t you tell me that the reason it looked dirty was because it was part of your funny pigmentation? Today you can see what I call her “marmalade spots” quite clearly.

She grew into a beautiful, intelligent cat. Here are some candids of her over the years.

She has cute dots on the back of her head. To me it looks like somebody got careless with a paint brush or they couldn’t decide what color she should be.

And, one big black target on her belly and also black splotches on the backs of her legs. Cute, eh?

So now you know the origin of her rather odd name. That’s our eBay and we love her dearly. Just think: if not for an auction on eBay and the kindness of a total “stranger” (thank you Debi!) we would not have her today. She is very special, and after reading her story you can’t help but agree that she was meant to come and live with us from the very beginning.

doily |ˈdoilē|
noun ( pl. -lies)
an ornamental mat, typically made of lace and placed under decorative objects.
• a small ornamental napkin, typically placed under a cake or other sweet foods.
ORIGIN late 17th cent.: from Doiley or Doyley, the name of a 17th-cent. London draper. The word originally denoted a woolen material used for summer wear, said to have been introduced by this draper. The current sense (originally doily napkin) dates from the early 18th cent.

My Mom, whom I lost in August of last year unexpectedly, was the Queen of Doilies. I can’t remember ever seeing her without a doily in progress. Her fingers fairly flew, the crochet hook flashing in and out of the threads. She would only glance down every now and then to check her work. She learned to crochet as a young child from her mother. She tried to interest me in learning how to crochet, but I couldn’t be bothered with all that fiddly thread. A real shame, that. I can single crochet a rag rug and that’s about the extent of it. 

I have many doilies, table runners and a few tablecloths all worked by my mom and grandmother. What better “D” than that I ask yout?

Stitch upon intricate stitch that ultimately turn out to be spirals, stars, pinwheels, and pineapples (Mom’s fav!).

Before I started knitting I really could not tell the right side of the doily from the wrong side. Every time Mom came to visit she would inspect the doilies I had been displaying, tut-tutting as she flipped them over to the correct side up. oops. It drove my Mom crazy that I liked my doilies “au naturelle.” She always starched and ironed hers so they were crisp. Alas, I am not that way, and my style of housekeeping will testify to that. My doilies tend to the more relaxed side of life. More laisser-faire is my mode. Definitely. To me it doesn’t take away from their beauty or timeless elegance.

Treasures and heirlooms, all. Thank you, Mom and Memom for keeping up with the wonderful tradition of crocheted doilies.