Through a weird chain of events today I started researching dog food on the internet today. Mainly because I found out that IAMS supports some pretty cruel animal testing (http://www.peta.org/). And I'm not one to rant on and on about PETA. I do agree that they can be extremely irrational. And I'm usually not one to believe in all the "holistic" hype, but the more that I read on various websites, the more I realized that the dog food that I was using (IAMS), which I thought to be a healthier brand of dog food, is actually crap. I used to use Science Diet because that's what I thought vet's recommended, but I found that that was a joke as well.
I didn't want to spend any more money than I already do feeding three large dogs, but I did want to try to find a healthier brand of food to feed them. If you are interested in learning more about what we should be feeding our dogs, then check out these articles. http://www.healthyhappydogs.com/DogFood
http://www.healthyhappydogs.com/APIarticle
If you just want to see what kind of rating your dog food has, then check out the website below. The dog food that I chose to buy is almost comparable in price to what I was paying. Nature's Variety makes the brand I purchased, called Prairie. It is a five star brand. IAMS is a one star brand. A little scary, especially considering all of the dog food scares that we have had in the recent past. That in itself is due to multi-international outsourcing by major dog food companies, like IAMS and EUKANUBA.
http://www.dogfoodanalysis.com/
On Not Flying to Hawaii
I could be the waitress
in the airport restaurant
full of tired cigarette smoke and unseeing tourists.
I could turn into the never-noticed landscape
hanging identically in all the booths
or the customer behind the Chronicle
who has been giving advice
about stock portfolios for forty years. I could be his mortal weariness,
his discarded sports section, his smoldering ashtray.
I could be the 70-year-old woman who has never seen Hawaii,
touching her red lipstick and sprayed hair.
I could enter the linen dress
that poofs around her body like a bridesmaid,
or become her gay son
sitting opposite her, stirring another sugar
into his coffee for lack of something true to say.
I could be the reincarnated soul of the composer
of the Muzak that plays relentlessly overhead,
or the factory worker who wove this fake Oriental carpet,
or the hushed shoes of the busboy.
But I don't want to be the life of anything in this pitstop.
I want to go to Hawaii, the wet, hot
impossible place in my heart that knows just what it desires.
I want money, I want candy.
I want sweet ukelele music and birds who drop from the sky.
I want to be the volcano who lavishes
her boiling rock soup love on everyone,
and I want to be the lover
of volcanos, who loves best what burns her as it flows.
Alison Luterman
in the airport restaurant
full of tired cigarette smoke and unseeing tourists.
I could turn into the never-noticed landscape
hanging identically in all the booths
or the customer behind the Chronicle
who has been giving advice
about stock portfolios for forty years. I could be his mortal weariness,
his discarded sports section, his smoldering ashtray.
I could be the 70-year-old woman who has never seen Hawaii,
touching her red lipstick and sprayed hair.
I could enter the linen dress
that poofs around her body like a bridesmaid,
or become her gay son
sitting opposite her, stirring another sugar
into his coffee for lack of something true to say.
I could be the reincarnated soul of the composer
of the Muzak that plays relentlessly overhead,
or the factory worker who wove this fake Oriental carpet,
or the hushed shoes of the busboy.
But I don't want to be the life of anything in this pitstop.
I want to go to Hawaii, the wet, hot
impossible place in my heart that knows just what it desires.
I want money, I want candy.
I want sweet ukelele music and birds who drop from the sky.
I want to be the volcano who lavishes
her boiling rock soup love on everyone,
and I want to be the lover
of volcanos, who loves best what burns her as it flows.
Alison Luterman
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