Liebe Freunde, liebe Leser,
ich bin jetzt also seit einer knappen Woche in Island... und das erste was ich hier schreibe ist das hier (wohlgemerkt: auf Englisch ist das, nicht weil ich cool sein will, sondern damit mich die Leute hier verstehen, weil das ganze ist für ein szenisches Projekt geschrieben):
I really have to tell you about this. I am not proud about it. This thing, this bone, once it was my dog. Kátur. I had to do it. We couldn't get out of the house. There was just no way. We've been out of food for days. And the snow. All the snow. So much of it. We couldn't get out. We were starving. Something had to be done. And I did it. He would have died anyways. We all would have died. It was our only hope. I talked to Hannes about it. In the kitchen, so the children couldn't hear us. He said “yes, we have to do it”, that is what he said, but we couldn't do it himself. “I can't kill an animal” he said “I've never done that before, I can't do it”. Like if I could do this, like if I had done this before... but I did it. I had to do it. Hannes took the children to a far away corner of the house to play, so they wouldn't hear the shot. I took Kátur to the bathroom. Because of the tiles. They would be easier to wash. I told him to sit down. He did and he looked at me and he knew. I swear, he knew what would happen, but he kept still, not a single sound, not a single movement. He just kept looking at me, with this big round eyes. I couldn't do it like that. I put the gun on the ground next to Kátur and I went to the living room and I got a pillow from the couch and I put this pillow on his head, so I wouldn't have to look into his eyes any more. And then I put the gun to his forehead. It was just like in this one movie. There is this scene in the beginning, where this old guy shoots his dog. I always started crying when I saw this scene, but it seemed like, you know, like a really, how do you say, humane way to do it. So thats what I did. I pulled the trigger. The shot was loud. It was the loudest sound I have ever heard in my entire life. It was like everything around me just exploded. He wasn't dead immediately. He kept twitching. He didn't make a sound. He was throwing his head around and his legs, he tried to get up, but he couldn't. And all the blood. So much blood. It was flowing out of his ears, his mouth, his eyes, the hole in his head, everywhere. Everything was red. The tiles. The rug. Me. Then finally he lay still. And then I saw the blood on the floor, how it was flowing towards the door. I clutched the rug and I tried to collect the blood, so it wouldn't get out, so the children wouldn't have to see it. But then they came. They had heard the shot and they understood and they came running. Hannes couldn't hold them back. And they were crying and they started hammering against the door. “Please mommy, don't kill Kátur, please. We love him!” It was too much. I just lost it. I don't know what happened, but when I awoke, I was lying on the bathroom floor, my hair soaked in blood. Oh, the smell, this sticky, sweet smell of blood.... And then I skinned him. I can't remember exactly how I did it, I was just tearing the skin of the meat and I was crying hysterically while I did it. Then it was done. I opened the door and I carried the meat into the kitchen. “Clean up the mess” I said to Hannes and the way I looked, with our dead dog's meat in one and a gun in the other hand, he just didn't dare to say no. I chopped up the meat and started cooking. I cooked his left hindleg first. It tasted good. The children wouldn't eat it at first, but then the hunger was just too much. “He saved you, and he is happy that he did” Hannes told the children “he was your best friend and he loved you. And sometimes friends have to do things like that for each other”. The rest of Kátur I put into the freezer. In seperate, clean little packages. Front legs. Hind legs. Ribs. Innards. All of it tasted really good. Or maybe this was just the hunger talking. I tried to do different things with the meat. We had some spices left and some coal... a different dish every time. Kátur was a big dog. With enough meat to feed us for three days. Enough to save us. When the snow was gone, we buried him. And this, this bone, I stole it from the grave before it was closed. Something to remember him by. Kátur.
Entscheidet also selbst.... ich habe jedenfalls meine Freude in diesem Land der nicht aufgehenden Sonne...
P.S.: Kátur (Kautur) ist ein beliebter isländischer Hundename und bedeutet so viel wie "fröhlich".
