The sweater had a supplier.
One Loose End
The sweater needed one more sleeve. The sheep had found the wool.
It sat in a cream-coloured ball beside Grandma’s chair. A loose end trailed across the rug, almost reaching his hoof.
“Is that mine?” he asked.
Grandma looked up from her knitting. “It came from your fleece in spring.”
The sheep remembered Grandma gathering his soft curls in a basket after shearing. Now they had become most of a sweater.
“Your granddaughter will be warm,” he said.
“If I finish before she arrives.” Grandma held up the little sweater. One sleeve hung complete; the other ended just below the shoulder.
The sheep looked at the clock. The little girl was coming after lunch. He wanted her to see the sweater finished, with both sleeves ready for her arms.
The Visit
Grandma set down her needles and went to the kitchen to check the cake. The sheep decided to bring the wool closer to her chair, so she could continue as soon as she returned.
He held the ball between his front hooves. The loose end slipped across the rug.
“I’ll bring that too.”
He caught it gently between his teeth. With the ball held securely, he shuffled towards the chair.
The ball turned. A loop fell onto the rug.
The sheep stopped. He lowered it, but the wool was still in his mouth. When he stepped back to look, another loop slipped free.
From the kitchen came the sound of a cupboard closing. He wanted to put everything right before Grandma came back. He took one more step, and the wool travelled under the chair.
He sat down with the ball in his lap and looked at the long line behind him. It ran from his mouth to the rug, around one chair leg and back towards Grandma’s knitting.
The cake smelled ready. The wool did not look ready at all.
The Long Thread
Grandma returned carrying a plate. She stopped beside the chair.
“I was bringing it closer,” the sheep said through the wool.
“So I see.”
Grandma put down the plate and followed the thread with her eyes.
“Will you hold the ball still?” she asked.
The sheep nodded. He had intended to do much more than hold it, but this seemed like a good place to begin.
Grandma lifted the loop from beneath the chair and wound it back around the ball. Soon only the end in his mouth remained.
“There,” she said.
He smiled, still holding it.
Grandma looked at him. “May I have that part?”
He let go. The end was slightly damp.
Still in Hand
The granddaughter arrived while Grandma was working on the second sleeve. She came in wearing her old sweater, with one cuff folded over her hand.
“I thought you might need this,” she told Grandma, pointing to the cuff. “It keeps unfolding.”
Grandma put down the new sweater and fixed the cuff with a small stitch. The sheep watched from the rug, the wool resting in his lap.
“Is that for me?” the girl asked, noticing the unfinished sleeve.
“Yes,” Grandma said. “It needs a little more time.”
The girl slipped her hand into the finished sleeve. “This side fits.”
The sheep brightened. “The other side is on its way.”
Grandma handed him the ball again while she returned to her needles. He held it with both hooves, keeping the loose end well away from his mouth.
The girl sat beside him and described a dog on the bus, lifting both arms to show how large he was.
Her repaired cuff stayed exactly where Grandma had put it.
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