A fun blog of 'soft' philosophy about the life and times of a Westiepoo called Chester. Written as a prelude to a more serious novel raising the question: Who is the most bankrupt: the banker who won't whistle-blow or the chef who loses her livelihood?
"Is it worth the waiting for? Will they change the bill of fare?" Oliver Twist (1837 — 39)
Life's a bit slow on the menu front for me. My owners (The WS') regularly feed me with dry dog food. The current menu is turkey with veg, but sometimes it is lamb and rice and other times salmon and potato. To be honest, I have had them in a rotation of sorts all my life. They think it is natural, wholesome food free from any artificial flavours and colours, but it's purgatory. I mean, how would you like to eat the same dry food, day in day out, week in week out, month in month out? I mean they must believe the brand owners stories that distinguish my food as superior to some genuinely delicious foodstuffs like cheese and tuna. Why else would they give it to me?
Now, as you know, I do like a heartfelt story, and I don't like complaining (except when I get scratched by a cat). But, and it's a big BUT, all this talk about kelp, yeast, vitamins, Omega and, my personal favourite, Yucca (to help reduce my unpleasant odours from flatulence), really doesn't inspire me. The story I prefer is the one where I get snit bits, snacks, and treats. Take, for example, the pork crackling leg cooked yesterday by yours truly, or the fish pie from last week, or the daily licking of an empty bowl of porridge, well what a delight. And each day, when I pass another dog owner and can smell their biscuits, I am enticed to lift my muddy front paws onto their pockets and plead my case for one with a cute smile and wagging tail. Why can't I have more of this type of food?
You see, for you humans, you swallow the story of brand association. That means yours truly believes that Mr. Harrington — a 19th Century, Great Grandfather, who started milling in Yorkshire, and his family, still grinding three generations later — produce dog food that will benefit me. And, I guess, to some extent it is true ... the Harringtons' food keeps me regular (if you know what I mean), fit and healthy. But there is something more delightful to me than just branded food: that's the smells and pleasures of home-cooked food made from scratch that enhances my soul and has me whimpering and whining from underneath the dining room table. I just love licking the leftovers wherever and whenever I can. So why not more: Food, glorious food! Hot sausage and mustard! (Yum, yum).
Next time on "Every Dog Has a Story To Tail" ... My Routine Walks.