There is good proximity and bad proximity. There is closeness that makes you purr and closeness that makes you grrr. You may go out (say, to walk the poodle) and find yourself beset by oodles of rude dudes, rushing and brushing and pushing and crushing, and your nerves will curdle and something crude’ll escape your lips and you’ll want to do away with the whole brutal kit and caboodle. So what’ll you do? Maybe go home and cuddle up in bed with your loved one or your pet or both (or maybe they’re the same) and bill and coo like two doves in a nest, cozy and comfy. You will croodle.
What is croodle? Well, true, it’s not a new word, nor a current one, nor one that has ever been especially Canadian or American. It’s more of a Scottish one, and generally disused now. But so what. I like it, I want it, I am picking it up and cuddling it close to me like a crocheted teddy bear.
Croodleis a word for two actions, both of which doves do when they are happily nesting. One means ‘gather close together’ – as in ‘cuddle or snuggle’ or as in ‘cower or huddle’ (as, for instance, to escape the cold) – and is related to the word crowd. The other means ‘make a low murmuring sound’ – as in the cooing of a dove or something similar, quieter than crooning, perhaps even a purr. Yes, I’m sure a pile of kittens would be croodling in both ways… although I must admit the “oo” has more of a high sound to it, a tribble kind of treble.
Who could refuse such a goodly croodling?
Sesquiotica 