Give the dog a bone
Time was, we would “give the dog a bone”. There was even a playground song that helped us to remember that this was a normal, healthy reaction to a pet’s needs. Not any more. Somehow, the diet of everyone in the country fell under the heavy hand of commercial interests, and now we get ads on prime time TV to help push their product.
I’m no better at thinking things through than anyone else, and when I went for the monthly bag of kibble, I noticed a carton of Greenies. My dog would have cleaner teeth and better breath, even if he didn’t realize the need. Without checking the unit price, I added the product to my already heavy load (16 Kg of dried something or other). And at home, the sticker shock kicked in… $2.40/biscuit. The hound doesn’t beg (much), and this will be a closely rationed gift; once in a green moon.
I’m a culture consumer, and once in a while my choices grate on the nerves of others. This evening, I let Soirée Canadienne run for too long. Twelve minutes. Apparently the voices are like the sound of a dental drill to those who watched the program in its original time slot (back around 1975). Actually, the Wiki entry brags that people tuned in over a period of twenty-three years (1960-1983), and that there are DVD box sets and a retro-cable channel devoted to keeping the content alive. Not fresh; that’s asking too much. For those that come across the program, pay particular attention to the clothes and haircuts. All fashion is doomed to recycling.
