It turns out that hand knit sweaters are like flypaper for chihuahuas.

I can imagine early hunter-gatherers sitting in preparation for weeks gossiping and purling together epic reindeer-patterned jumpers and herringbone turtlenecks. Then, on an auspicious day carefully chosen by a wise elder, they’d descend upon one of the massive herds of chihuahuas that once roamed the Sonoran plains. As their fathers (and their fathers’ fathers before them) had done, they’d use their fierce yells and waving arms to drive the small bug-eyed canines into dense, yipping shoals.

Then the cautious warriors would cast their painstakingly crafted knitware like fishermen of the desert; if they had sacrificed well to the grim idol of the Chihuahua queen, the harvest they claimed when they heaved in their gigantic cardigans and belted sweater-vests could indeed be great.