Everybody knows dogs are unable to be prudent. They can’t – and maybe if they could they wouldn’t in any case – be bothered with notions like “abundance” and “shortage”. They take what they have for granted, if they are used to be pampered a bit.
Kátur the dog would require a whole narration of his own, but this is not the right moment and place for it. Like most dogs though, Kátur the dog can be highly destructive in his playtime antics and it’s sure as heck if you give him something he won’t treasure it for ages to come. He will wear it down and devastate it in the shortest time possible to his fangs and claws. Since his true passion – or I should say obsessive fixation bordering to insane addiction – is playing ball, we have to supply him with this kind of item constantly. We tried any kind of ball on the market especially thought and designed for dogs, but those balls must have been thought and designed by people who have never actually come near a dog. They have not been designed by dogs, that’s for sure. I mean, come on.. those balls are so easily breakable that it’s outrageous to think a dog could use them for more than a few minutes.
But why being so decadent at all costs as to go for pet merchandise? Wouldn’t it be better, we thought, to be very old-fashioned and buy a simple, average, ordinary tennis ball for the dog, like in the good old days when pets were not just another branch of consumers with products of their own that don’t work, are crazy expensive, aren’t easy to find at all times, or simply aren’t at all good quality?
The last ball wild Kátur disintegrated looked like a tennis ball on the outside but was in fact a fake in leopard camouflage. It exhaled its last breath as soon as the beast wanted to chew it. We should have suspected something was horribly wrong when we saw the leopard print on the fleecy surface the doggone ball. After this unfortunate incident, we wanted an actual tennis ball, something Björn Borg could have used in his better days, before he became a moron and started designing underwear – maybe, thinking about it, he could have something to do with the fake leopard ball… hmm. Anyway, with this goal in mind, we happily departed for our simple quest to obtain a tennis ball for the dog to play with.
Now listen to what I say, but very calmly, because this is Iceland after all, and Iceland I discovered is full of inexplicable mysteries, like the absence in common supermarkets or houseware stores of a plunger in case your sink gets clogged or the sudden vanishing from almost all stores at the same time of spray body deodorants in favor of the roll-on variety.
Tennis balls were not hard to be seen sitting around on shelves about two weeks ago. There were quite a few at Europris and we saw them also in other leisure stores. We couldn’t find a single tennis ball anywhere today, but of course we’ll keep on looking for them tomorrow. The Bonus has tees to play golf though. Like incredible amounts of them. They come in many colors, to fit your mood or your golfing outfit. You could play golf forever with that amount of tees for your golf balls. Not that there were golf balls anywhere anyway, in case you’re wondering. At some point we were tempted to get a stuffed armadillo in order to make the dog forget for at least a few hours about his passion for ball playing, but the armadillo in question had a sort of whistling device inside that would have made maddening for us to live in the same apartment with Kátur, especially at night. In fact, it was so fascinating to press the armadillo’s belly to make him utter his bwaaaah that I got addicted to it myself for a good three minutes. Imagine what would have happened with a bored dog.
This also brings to mind an article I read on The Iceland Weather Report a few weeks back, about lemons’ and lime pickles’ pursuit. As I said, tennis balls were fairly popular a week or two ago. I’m not sure about deodorants and plungers and sofa covers and Narayan’s books, but tennis balls were. And tennis rackets are still fairly popular, but I assume if I start looking for them they’ll disappear for some reason as well, so then we’ll be able to play tennis as in the ending of Blow-up. But you can’t explain these things to a dog with big teary eyes, can you?
Maybe we’ll be able to get a three-pack of those bloody balls somewhere for a ridiculously expensive price. Or maybe we’ll get that armadillo.