We don’t ever buy fancy canned dog food. However, we recently received a coupon for some free cans, so why not?
I don’t think I’ve ever opened fancy canned dog food before. All I have to go on is the commercials. You know the ones: A perfectly manicured hand peels back a beautiful gold foil top to reveal a generous portion of a scrumptious, meaty delicacy. Often times, it’s lovingly spooned into crystal stemware or onto a silver plate, all served up on some kind of silk cloth. Sometimes there’s a candle, as if the dog might be expecting a date.
Here’s what they don’t show you, but what you would have seen had you been in my kitchen this morning:
A slightly splotchy hand in need of some light moisturizer and a loofah wrestles back the lid of a small can to reveal a gelatinous slab of “meat” product that smells like a gelatinous slab of “meat” product which has been in a can for a few months. The decidedly non-camera-ready hand retrieves a spoon from the drawer, briefly hesitating as it’s one of the spoons the hand-man’s children eat their cereal with; however it cannot be helped as the hand-man has failed to reserve a silver antique spoon for the dog’s food, ignoring the protocol.
The hand applies the spoon gently to the top layer of the “meat” product; we wait in anticipation, expecting the “meat” product to roll backwards in a smooth and graceful arc. We instead are horrified when the entire blob of gelled “meat” product seems to reach out and envelope the spoon, extracting itself out of the can in one big vibrating oval of disgusting, like a creature from a 1950’s Sci-Fi magazine. All of the above is set not to the soothing tones of slow jazz piano, but to the indescribable “schlummmp” sound the “meat” product makes as it exits the can, and the shrieks of “Oh, gross!” and “It smells horrible!” from the hand-man’s children.
Advertising!
(BTW, the dog didn’t care – she ate it in about 45 seconds).
phillipmullins.com 