Dog Food Recall My Kids Are Lucky They Get Fed

Dog food recall, eh?

Just saw that pop up.

Big news, I'm sure.

Right up there with the national debt and my liver function test results.

Some poor fucker's dog got sick.

Tragic.

Heartbreaking, even.

My kids ate cold pizza for breakfast.

Again.

They're still breathing.

Mostly.

I mean, we worry about Fido's salmonella, but little Jimmy's sugar intake from Cap'n Crunch and leftover Halloween candy? Nobody gives a shit about that.

Not until he's bouncing off the walls, anyway.

Then it's my problem.

Always my problem.

Dog food companies.

Massive operations.

Posh offices.

They fuck up.

Recall the shit.

Apologize.

Blame a supplier.

My job? No recalls for me.

Just a pissed-off boss.

Late rent.

Another Jameson and ginger.

Sometimes I wonder if my diet is any better than those poor dogs'.

Pizza, beer, whatever the wife cooks on Tuesdays.

Not exactly USDA prime.

But hey, I'm still here.

Still kicking.

Still paying taxes so some dog can get premium, non-recalled kibble while I scrounge for loose change for a coffee.

Priorities, people.

Priorities.

I gotta get a dog.

Then I can complain about the food.

And get a refund.

Probably better than my health insurance.

More reliable, anyway.

Another one bites the dust. Literally.

These fancy dog food companies.

Can't even get it right.

I bet they've never had to cook a gourmet meal after working a 10-hour shift and then finding out the kids have a science project due tomorrow.

With glitter.

Fuck glitter.

And fuck dog food recalls.

My problems are bigger than your dog's bowel movements.

Mostly.

Unless I get the shits.

Then we're on equal footing.

Cheers.