Roasted Peacock and the 30% Brain Boost

Not long ago we acquired a puppy. The little fella turned out to possess a stomach of such exquisite, aristocratic sensitivity that it led to a significant, utterly exhausting amount of research into dog food. Frankly, I was entirely unprepared for the current commercial landscape. The sheer, unadulterated grandiosity of the flavors on offer blew my mind—ranging from a hand-fed mix of roasted peacock, gold leaf, and imported truffles, to wild-caught salmon with hand-selected rosemary, lightly sprinkled with the “essence of a loving home.” The implication running through the entirety of this corporate drivel was clear: if you aren’t purchasing a bag that costs the same as a small mortgage repayment, you are a cold, heartless monster who probably shouldn’t be trusted with a houseplant, let alone a canine.

My experience with my older dog had been entirely different; the magnificent beast would happily consume anything up to and including a gravel driveway, making this high-stakes culinary world completely new to me. As I perused the packaging a little deeper, the claims grew more wildly outlandish still—promising to enhance flexibility, extend longevity, and “boost cognitive function.” A profoundly moving concept, given that I have always harbored a secret, desperate desire to own a genius, elderly ballet beagle.

Eventually, we settled on a premium brand that agreed with the puppy’s delicate constitution. That evening, both dogs enthusiastically chomped through their feed and, per the sacred daily ritual, promptly demanded to be let outside.

No sooner had the back door closed than they had an immediate change of heart — launching into a passionate protest to be let back in. The specific grievances still being assembled.

I couldn’t help but wonder how the cognitive boost brand might have played out.