In an unscientific survey (okay, I googled Nestle Purina PetCare annual sales a few minutes ago) I have discovered that pet food and paraphernalia are an extremely lucrative business venture. Purina alone had global revenue of USD $12.5B in 2010, which is Big Business with a pair of capital B's. When you think about how many companies are in the pet care business, the revenue must be staggering.
If only I'd known. I love animals. I could have been the one to make all that cash, if only I'd thought of gourmet pet stuff sooner. Now the market is awash with premium options, and although pulling back on buying homes and other frills, people continue to spend money on their pets, making someone else rich beyond my wildest fantasies. I am always a day late and a dollar short. Story of my life.
Of course, I understand this owner impulse. It is a very satisfying experience to give your pet something that makes them happy. They reward you so completely with their unbounded joy and enthusiasm over the smallest and most insignificant item. This can be in rather striking contrast with the reaction of other loved ones upon receiving a gift which took substantially more time, money and effort to procure. (I am not pointing fingers at my own loved ones here. They are modest in their wants, and they are always delighted with whatever they receive. But I've heard stories....) Anyway, what's not to cherish?
To use my own pets as an example, if I throw down an empty toilet paper tube, the dog is beside himself with enthusiasm. He will spend an hour tossing it around, trying to play fetch with it, shaking it into a million pieces. It provides him with a remarkable level of enjoyment, considering the simplicity of the offering.
If I go to the store and buy a new rawhide bone, I have to be careful not to let them be out together while giving it, because it will cause a battle to the end. They will fight over it like it is the Hope Diamond, and they will not give in until threatened with the death penalty.
Even their twice a day meal is greeted with unbounded excitement, despite having eaten the exact same meal twice a day for the past eight years. Science Diet has a good customer in me, and with a little spoon of yogurt on top, it is a confection fit for a doggie king. (Which TidBit thinks he is, so it works out brilliantly.)
I wish people were so easy. Christmas just came and went, with it's usual fanfare and angst over What To Get Everyone. There was a time when it was much easier. Little girls love Barbie or American Girl dolls. Little boys love Tonka trucks and video games. Then they grow up.
I thought about giving my daughter the key to my closet so she could just select what she wants, but she has already taken everything she likes anyway. So that would be sort of like locking the stable door after the horses already went on their romp. Instead, she got boring travel gear for an upcoming semester abroad. Ho hum. (She was sweet enough to be enthused about it, anyway, which just goes to show the quality of her character!)
I thought about giving my son the title to the vehicle he is currently driving, but he already has it, and has not done anything with it to date. So that also seems a little pointless. Instead, I gave him money. (Always the right color and style, which is a bit tricky with him, at best.)
My mother has everything she needs, a lot that she doesn't, and really has no wants in life. She is 85, and feels that if she doesn't already have it, she probably doesn't need it. Talk about what to get for the person who has everything? If you don't have any wants, it can be tricky business to find the right thing! (Bathroom towels are always a winner. Second year this decade I resorted to them, and they were still well received. I recommend it!)
I am not complaining, of course. It is a joy along with the hard work, to come up with the right gift for each loved one during the holidays, and I take pleasure in making or finding just the right thing. Replacing bathroom towels we have ruined, or a gift of food or financial forgiveness are valued every bit as much as the latest gizmo or gadget, perhaps more, and their value is longer lasting.
But getting back to the dog's life, which was the point of this whole long story. I bought each dog a toy, a simple ball on a rope. It was much like any other ball on a rope, with a tennis ball strung through a rope "bone" for the dog to toss around or play tug of war. (I have one each, a tosser AND a tugger, so this worked out well for us.)
These simple toys provided a fair amount of giggles for us humans as we watched them negotiate between themselves for the toy they most wanted. Which was, naturally, the one the other dog had at any given moment. They circle and bark and tease and tangle, unsatisfied with the toy they have in their possession, until they finally give up and lay down. I never cease to be entertained by their antics, all sparked by a simple $2 gift of a rope and a ball. They have a simple life, but they are fulfilled. What more can you ask for?
I would like to be a dog, I think. With $12.5 billion going for their care and upkeep, that's a lot of food and toys. Sounds like a deal to me.
It's a dog's life. I wish I had it so uncomplicated!
