Don'T Throw Away The Packaging Poem by Diana van den Berg

Two months ago
I saw a rope ball
in a supermarket.
I wondered whether
my then ten month old puppy, Benji,
would like it or not
and if he did,
I wondered
how long the ball would last.

There were about five rope balls
hanging there
in their cellophane packets.
I wanted to buy them all,
but although they were only
fourteen rand something,
my finances were not good
and it would not be sensible
to buy them all,
if one would last forever
or if he didn’t like them.
So I did the cautious thing.
I bought one, carefully chosen
for the colours woven
into the rope.

I also bought him a rope bone
made of the same woven rope
in the same colours.
Well, he loves the bone,
but oh, the ball, the ball, the ball!
It was like fifty million Christmases
wrapped into one.

So, the Scottish blood in me
allowed me
to go back to the supermarket
the next week
to buy two more spare ones
for when it had completely disintegrated,
but they had all been sold.

I spoke to the manager
and after promises
and phone calls
from and to the supermarket
over days,
there was still no
spare bally for Benji.

Every day in every way
the bally has been
a joy beyond comprehension.
Benji grabs it and rushes off with it
and turns on the haunches
ten times faster than a Lippizaner
growling at the ball that is hanging
from his mouth
by the strings of now unraveled rope
and he shakes it and throws it
and brings it to Mommy
with unparalleled excitement and joy
to kick it softly
(it is an inside bally –
he has a tennis ball for outside
that he only gets
when we play outside-bally)
or throw it a little way in the passage.

It has lasted well for two months,
Benji’s bally,
and probably will last for at least another two
but I knew the horror,
the devastation,
the cataclysmic terror
of... one day...
when the bally
will be
... completely disintegrated ...
forever and ever.
My mind shut down
every time
just before
I pictured Benji’s realization
of that.

For two months I have been trying
desperately
to find
at least
one spare rope bally
for Benji
but preferably
three spares.

I phoned every petshop
that was oxymoronically remotely near
and long explanations and half promises later
still no spare bally for Benji
... no spare bally for Benji...
what was I going to do?
This cannot be,
I said and found another petshop to phone,
but still, no spare bally for Benji.

Today I came across
part of the packaging
of Benji’s bally
with supplier’s name,
item number
and bar code number.

I rushed to the phone
and phone the supermarket
Benji’s bally came from
and spoke to Simi
(pronounced Simmie)
and gave her every last detail
of the treasure I was seeking.
She said that
Amichand
would order more
and get back to me this morning.
About twenty minutes later
Simi phoned again
and said that they would place another order
BUT

... BUT...
wait for it...
they had one in the shop!

Within an hour
Benji and I
bundled into the car
and on the way
I kept thinking
(despite feeling
that the treasure
I was looking for
had dissipated
into the ether) ,
that it
HAD to be the right thing
seeing that
the item number and
the barcode and
the supplier
all
match!
However, it felt as though
it was just too good
to be true.

We arrived at the shop
and I left my Benji-boy
in the car
and in fear and trepidation
mingled with excitement and expectation,
I rushed into the supermarket
and...
found Simi...
and oh joy, oh joy, oh joy!
The bally was just right
and...
unbeknown to him,
hidden in a packet
in a cupboard at home,
Benji-dog
now
has
a spare rope bally!

(16 March 2011)