The soccer ball was the first that needed to be taken into pieces. Each of those little hexagons clearly needed to be separated from its hexagonal or pentagonal neighbor.
There is a mathematical theorem: you can tile a flat plane with hexagons, but not with regular pentagons. The deconstruction of the soccer ball into nearly flat pieces was clearly my dog's attempt to recreate the proof of that theorem.
Once the rubber sac inside the ball starts to peek through a hole, it is imperative that the entire sac be removed, even if such a surgery requires pulverization along the way. The same operation follows for the volleyballs, naturally: let us not play favorites when it comes to sports. Any ball that has seams can be un-seamed, is the way Prewash sees it.
What I find most amazing about this photo, really, is the pair of shoes barely visible in the top left corner, which are left perfectly unmolested. This dog has been the least destructive of personal property that I've ever owned. Half a decade ago, she ate a toilet plunger, it's true -- but she hasn't touched shoes or socks or gloves; she doesn't snatch food off the table; she doesn't even jump on the furniture.
Volleyballs that find their way into the home, on the other hand: their days are numbered here.
Ah, Prewash shares the same philosophy as our late great Seamus! Such memories. He'd never dream of chewing up anything of ours but plushies for dogs and balls? They were doomed.
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