The story you’re about to read is based on actual events. The names of the victims have been changed to honor their privacy, whereas the names of the perpetrators will be obvious and not changed to protect their stupidity. Thus begins, the Tale of Two Sweaters.

The first sweater, we’ll call him Hop Sing, made his way to America all the way from China. Upon reaching America, Hop Sing was shipped here and there until arriving on a clothing rack in Rapid City, SD. Being made of soft merino wool, a pleasing earth tone color, and 50% off, Hop Sing caught the eye of my lovely wife who purchased Hop Sing for me.

My wife claims I am “particular” about my clothing, so she rarely buys me clothes. Maybe I am mildly particular about what I wear but I could also argue maybe she just doesn’t have very good taste in men’s clothing. I “could” pose that argument, but I don’t because I’ve been married long enough to know that would be stupid.

This time around though she brought home a keeper and Hop Sing, having met all my particularities, was placed in my closet to be worn on a day wool wouldn’t make me hot and cranky. I wore Hop Sing several times and things were going well between us, but today when the buzzer went off in the laundry room things took a turn for the worse.

There in the dryer I found Hop Sing, less than half the sweater he used to be. Seeing medium-sized Hop Sing reduced to a toddler-sized dog sweater struck me funny for some odd reason. I pictured Mortimer Snerd, the ventriloquist dummy I got for Christmas when I was 12, sporting a new sweater and I laughed hard.

My wife had been the one who accidentally put Hop Sing in the dryer so I composed myself to present her my wool shrinkydink. She felt bad of course but was relieved I could laugh about it. My laughter was short lived, and I wish I could say that Hop Sing was the only victim on this day but that was not to be so.

The second sweater, we’ll call him Paddy, was born, raised, and hand-knitted on the Aran Islands of Ireland, which would be why Paddy is an Aran sweater and 100% Irish wool. Paddy’s trip to America was much different and much more personal than Hop Sing’s. I went to Ireland with a “particular” style of Aran sweater in mind and in a little shop in Doolin, Ireland, Paddy and I met. I personally transported him back to America and placed him in my closet to be worn on a day wool wouldn’t make me hot and cranky.

On our first night on the town we ended up in a cigar bar and Paddy soaked up some smoke so following the label I handwashed him. The label also said to lie flat to dry but the lady in the shop in Ireland where I bought Paddy said to place it in a pillowcase and dry on low for about 20 minutes. Never listen to a lady whose entire livelihood hinges on Americans buying lots of sweaters.

When I pulled Paddy out of the soaking wet pillowcase he was fit for a leprechaun. Seeing Hop Sing in this state made me laugh, but seeing Paddy like this was too much for one man to bear. I mean, sure I liked Hop Sing, but I didn’t go all the way to China to get him and I didn’t meet the sheep and the lady that produced him.

Paddy was special, we had traveled the world together. My skinny 11-year-old son could see that little Paddy had put me in a somber state and offered to wear him for his Christmas concert next month. That managed to cheer me up a little.

Dejected over what had transpired I was drinking a Guinness in memory of medium-sized Paddy when a Google search of “how to unshrink a wool sweater” provided a beacon of hope. I’ll keep you posted on Paddy’s road to recovery.

Although there is a language barrier, some water, and a large land mass between Chinese and Irish sheep they’re not so different. When your wool is wet do as the sheep do…lie flat to dry.