I am Toast. This is my post.
Yesterday, as dinner-time approached, this wonderful scent filled the house from the kitchen. While the smoke was of slight concern, I quickly deduced that Mommy was cooking – smoke, sometimes fire, and many dirty dishes typically accompany Mommy when she attempts this task. I am a big fan of dirty dishes and being a little Toast, I need to arrive early if I want to beat Dakota the Fluffer Wolf. I will brave smoke and fire for a Mommy-just-cooked-something-yummy dirty dish.
Arriving in the kitchen, I discovered the Fluffer Wolf was in the big outside hunting lizards with Dixie Chicken – he was unaware of Mommy’s efforts! I was so excited, I may have tee-teed a little next to the dishwasher. Actually I did not. It was the feline. I would not. Only on the patio where it belongs. Unless there is peanut butter – I can’t make any guarantees if there is peanut butter. This is not important.
I watched Mommy closely from my safe spot under the table and waited patiently. I did not want to get in the way, so I only reminded her that I was waiting every thirty seconds or so. I am not a pest. I do not pester.
When the smoke detector went off, indicating dinner was ready, I came out from my safe place and went to my food bowl in anticipation of the feast about to be served. I do not recall the specifics, but I may have reminded her that I was there by demonstrating my ability to jump straight up nearly three feet while barking and wagging my tail for two minutes straight. I am an excellent multitasker.
Mommy, being a good mommy, filled my water dish and added eight ice cubes to bring it to the proper temperature. There should always be an even number of ice cubes. If the number is odd, then one should be removed and taken to the big outside and buried on the north side of the strawberry tree with the others. There is no room in my life for an odd number of ice cubes or the horror that such an ill-fated mistake can bring.
Mommy then returned to the large black box on which she creates smoke and filled a plate of the most delicious smelling yumminess, then carried it to the table where Daddy was sitting. This is okay, Daddy is the alpha and keeper of the treats, I permit him to be served first. She then prepared another plate and carried it over to her favorite spot at the table. In anticipation of this feast, I ran several laps around the kitchen island – I prefer to remain fit so I tend to exercise before and after each meal with a brisk run.
Then it happened. Mommy picked up my dish, filled it, and set it back down beside my water. I stared at the contents in horror – kibble.
This is not the first time.
The last time this happened, just a day earlier, I thought I made it perfectly clear – I prefer the human food over kibble. I prefer ANY human food over kibble. So why the kibble?
Mommy has failed me.
It’s a sad day to be a Toast.
I do not like kibble.
What is chicken by-product? Daddy eats chicken, I do not think he eats by-product. I do not want by-product. Is it even free-range by-product? I do not know.
I considered pointing out Mommy’s error to her but I’ve watched Restaurant Impossible, I know what happens when you send your food back to the kitchen.
Frustrated, I located Mommy’s laptop and composed an email:
Subject: Your Kibble is Poopycocky Yuck Yuck
As a connoisseur of fine cuisine, I find it appalling that you allow your product to leave your facility in its current state. You are not fooling anyone with the pictures of happy puppies on the bag. I am a Toast. Toasts like meat (ideally grilled to medium rare with a side of asparagus and a sweet potato). Toast’s ancestors were big and strong hunters who also preferred meat. In a recent meeting of my fan club,The Toasters, I tasked Dixie with researching the ingredients of your product, but as usual, she chose to play with the Fluffer Wolf and neglected her duties so I was forced to do this myself. After reading the ingredients, I wish I had played with them instead; it is appalling.
Your number one ingredient (in the product labeled “Lamb and Chicken”) is corn.
I will not pretend to be a zoologist but I am pretty sure lambs and chickens do not grow in fields on stalks. I’m also fairly confident corn is not meat. Ancient Toasts did not eat corn. Why is modern, Toast-of-the-World eating corn?
Your product is also known to contain much rat waste and something called “modified plastics”. When was the last time you had a big helping of rat do-do in Tupperware, then ate the bowl? Even if you heat it up and sprinkle on some corn, I do not think it would be enjoyable. Not even with peanut butter and everything is good with peanut butter. Maybe if I wrap it in a bag with a happy puppy picture on it?
Your days are number, kind sir. The Toasters are coming for you. We are everywhere.
I strongly suggest you make some significant changes to your product post-haste.
P.S. I sent you a $10 rebate more than six months ago and you still haven’t sent me my check. I want my money.
Mommy, I am watching you too. If you put those dishes in the dishwasher before I get a chance to clean them, we are going to have a serious problem.
That is all.
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