We don’t do things by halves, so we got a puppy that at eight months weighs sixty pounds.

If you measure a dog’s potential growth by the size of Laska’s feet, you can figure she’ll be around six feet tall by the time she’s done growing.

What, you say, will you ever feed her?

Well, the answer to that is

FUCKING EVERYTHING.

Anyway, because we need our heads examined (and because friends with healthy dogs provided a lot of convincing reasons that we have seen borne out), we decided to feed raw.

What does feeding raw mean?

“OH GOD GROSS”

“MAKE HER TAKE THAT FUCKING THING OUTSIDE”

“WHAT IS THAT SMELL”

“IS THIS LEFTOVER – OH GOD OH GOD NEVER MIND”

“NOT ON THE GOOD CUTTING BOARD”

“I’M NOT TOUCHING THAT, YOU FEED HER”

And so on.

Why do it?

Look, I’m not going to try and debate raw versus kibble to you, because honestly I don’t know enough to tell you much.  I do know that we’ve fed our cats mostly raw for a while, and they seem healthier for it. Is it measurable for us?  Not really.

We’re also not super scientific.  I know a lot of people get all… Martha Stewart about it. I mean in a Ferocious Homemaker way not a prison cell kind of way, anyway…

I would seriously love to have that kind of time on my hands and love and devotion for my fur babies

(!!)

But I don’t. Dog wants a Polenta Chicken Ball she can go catch a chicken and roll it around in some rice herself.

Instead, raw feeding for us more or less means buying cheap raw meat like chicken, beef, pork, fish, that’s usually discounted because it’s past its date or people looked at it and went “my dog wouldn’t eat that!” but of course they will, with a minimum of chewing.

GULP.

Look. Okay.

Yes, it feels good to feed the dog a big hunk of raw chicken. I toss it out in the yard with her and feel pretty damned superior. And watching my cats deal with mackerel heads?  Worth the price of admission.

I hear by report that lungs are bouncy and provide hours of feeding time entertainment. I can’t wait, frankly.

So, you ask me, Kate… where do you get this food?

We don’t get it at the “SPEND ALL YOUR MONEY HERE THIS IS ORGANIC FOOD IF YOU DON’T FEED YOUR PET THIS FOOD YOU’RE A SHITTY OWNER AND CONTRIBUTING TO GLOBAL WARMING” display at Target.  We get some of it in the meat section at Shaws, in the discount section.

But the really good way to get it?

In a parking lot.

Oh.

Oh, yes.

Yes, there are RAW MEAT DEALERS and you pull over in different locations at arranged times and bring your checks and toss your meat in the back of your car and drive away fast before the KIBBLE POLICE come and get you. Or the real police. Or the FDA. Or something.

It’s gangster.

It’s fantastic.

Today I screwed up the rendezvous. So the Meat Dealer, the Meat Man, the Driver of the Goods kindly left our meat for us.

Here.

Nothing like driving two hours, winding up into the parking lot of a Days Inn, strolling nonchalantly across the lawn, picking up two random boxes that smell slightly pungent and are attracting flies, tossing them in your truck and driving off again to feel like you’re going above and beyond for your furry friend.

But hey, raw meat off the back of the truck is about $40 for a huge box of chicken legs that will last Laska a month or so, and other assorted yummies like mackerel, bones, organ meat and some pork stuff I can’t remember the name of but comes in a sausage sleeve only cost around $20 more.

And, look.  There are a lot of really good arguments for raw food and you can research those yourself, but mostly it’s hilarious and not that much work and a bit less cost when it comes right down to it.

Laska definitely approves.