The Tin Opener

Veronika Zeal

I am trying to open a tin of dog food. This is normally not my job. Not that we put this down in our marriage contract but there is a definite division of labour even in our household. John feeds the dogs, but he's not here. The tin opener has crept along the edge of the tin and chewed the rim without penetrating the lid. Now it won't grip at all and I'll have to get the grinder if I was serious. Well - it is dog bikkies tonight.
It seems such a banal household item, the tin opener. It resides in the drawer in the kitchen together with a selection of mysterious utensils. It is crammed in beside the cherry pitter, the Spaetzle maker (Swabian Specialty), garlic press, a number of designer bottle openers, knife sharpening gadgets and the stick a friend whittled to probe the state of a cake I baked years ago. No wonder the tin opener refuses to work!
Tin openers do come in all sizes and shapes - we obviously own a base model with crooked teeth on wheels which won't turn and it has un-ergonomic, brittle, orange plastic handles and a little side winder. John has been complaining a lot but as it is his department I never really took the grumbles seriously. Now I have to open tins for a few days and my interest in tin openers is suddenly insatiable.
To buy a new tin opener proved to be not that easy - the supermarket variety was sold out and the kitchen shop bombarded me with a multitude of designs. Tin openers doubling as wall hangings and little circular spaceships, some even electric! There was a conservative model in the back of the shelf that I spontaneously recognised as a tin opener. Price tag - well, better than the one of the spaceship. The salesperson promoted the heritage of my tin opener of choice...Switzerland. This tipped the scales.
Call it partly sentimentality for the old country and partly a ploy to impress John with good European workmanship. I might not come home with a Matterhorn Swatch, but a tin opener with ergonomic handles to avoid multiple strain injury.
Back to opening the doggy tins it was quite exciting to get out the new tool, clamp the wheels of the tin opener around the rim of the tin, press the ergonomic handles and "whoopee"...It worked - but only for one quarter of the way. Another three half-hearted attempts got the Swiss guy around the lot, chewing hard on the tin lid.
Depending on the size of the can circumference and the way you hold your mouth, the opening job may take up to a minute or two, while two pair of eyes are watching greedily from behind the flyscreen door. The can has several clean cuts interspersed with solid metal parts, still holding the lid firmly in place, the contents so close, but yet so far and the smell of dog food seeping out.
Well, we have given in and buy most tines with little handy tab rings that you pull on to remove the whole lid. The grinder up in the shed acts as a back up when the handy rings break off before even attempting to lift the lid.
Needless to say the new Swiss tin opener is very happy in his drawer beside the cherry pitter.