People will do all sorts of crazy-seeming things in the name of those that they love—even if those loved ones happen to walk on four legs, rather than two. In my house, there are two eras: Before Hugo (my nearly three-year-old golden retriever), and After Hugo. Once we were happily ensconced in the latter category, it didn’t take long for us to start planning vacations around dog-friendly destinations. We concern ourselves with his emotions (various, but often food- or attention-centered), his desires (Is he lonely? Does he want a sibling? He seems like an only child to us), whom he likes better (my boyfriend, because he’s more liberal with the treats), whom he sleeps next to every night (me, because I let him, with his head on my pillow). I FaceTime with him when I’m away for Fashion Week. We were, I figured, A+ puppy parents. And then somebody told us about the pet food problem.
A September article in Modern Farmer included studies that showed that some of the “meat meal” included in the ingredient lists of popular pet food brands is less than optimal. (Some is even truly nightmarish, with a few companies likely accepting euthanized shelter animals as “meat.”) Suddenly we were under the shadow of “Big Pet”—companies like Nestlé, Mars, and J.M. Smucker control 93 percent of America’s mid-priced dog and cat food market. But the smaller artisanal brands have fewer technical abilities, authorities warn, and the trendy emphasis on raw ingredients brings new scares, like environment contamination. We immediately began to look for alternatives, ones that didn’t involve feeding the most vulnerable member of our family out of a giant mystery bag twice a day. We bought canine cookbooks and made huge pots of ground beef and turkey, leafy greens, and sweet potatoes (which he loved) but couldn’t quite figure out the rationing (which he took advantage of). His lithe waistline swelled; he developed a swagger, which then began to look like a waddle. His vet got less delicate when discussing his diet. Obesity is very detrimental to any pet’s health, but golden retrievers have a genetic predisposition for joint issues; this is exacerbated by excess weight. “I know he loves food,” said our vet, “and I know he’s hard to say no to, but we’re talking about years on his life.” Were we too doting? Was overindulgence making us bad pet parents? We began to despair.
Much like your green juice habit, it is not inexpensive (it varies based on the size of your dog, but averages around $29 a week), but the site now also offers a discounted trial run, as well as vet-approved DIY recipes and additional nutritional supplements for purchase, so you can replicate the process at home. And as the canine home cooks will happily tell you at the dog park, “what you lose in grocery bills, you make up in vet bills.” It’s that very phenomenon that led to the creation of The Farmer’s Dog, says the 29-year-old cofounder, Jonathan Regev, who experienced it firsthand when his business partner, Brett Podolsky, cured his Rottweiler’s persistent stomach ailments by changing her to a home-cooked diet. “The difference was mind-blowing,” said Regev, and he discovered quickly what we crazy pet people already knew: There is no limit to what you’ll do for a loved one. Initial trial runs of The Farmer’s Dog produced long waiting lists. Now, thanks to a $2 million seed round (courtesy of investors whose previous projects include Warby Parker, Birchbox, Casper, Harry’s, and Sweetgreen) and a new, enlarged kitchen facility, the wait lists are over, and your freezer can be filled to the brim, like mine is. “We tell people they’ve got to ditch the ice cream to make room,” says Regev, “so really, it’s healthier for both of you.” Hugo and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
