My Honest Review of Every Treat in This House
I’ve been living in this house for years, and in that time, I’ve consumed what I estimate to be several thousand treats. Some were extraordinary. Some were crimes against dogs. But I’ve eaten them all, because I’m a professional.
Today, I’m conducting a comprehensive audit of every treat currently in this house. I will be fair but firm. I will be honest but hungry. And yes, I will be accepting payment in the form of additional treats for this important journalism.
Let’s begin.
1. The Fancy Organic Free-Range Chicken Training Treats
Rating: 4/10
Let me start by saying these smell like disappointment wrapped in good intentions.
My human buys these because they’re “all natural” and “grain-free” and “made with real chicken from chickens that probably had names and hobbies.” That’s great. I’m happy for the chickens. But these treats taste like cardboard that once met a chicken at a party.
They’re also TINY. Like, insultingly small. Am I a HAMSTER? Am I a small bird? No. I’m a full-sized dog with full-sized treat expectations.
My human says “they’re for training, not spoiling.” Well, I’m trained already. I sit. I stay. I don’t eat the couch anymore (mostly). I deserve BIGGER treats for my BIGGER accomplishments.
Verdict: Virtue signaling in treat form. Would eat again only because I have no self-control.
2. The Gas Station Mystery Treats
Rating: 9/10
Okay, so my human stopped at a gas station once and grabbed a bag of treats from the impulse rack. The bag is bright orange and features a dog that looks nothing like me. The ingredients list is suspicious. The expiration date is more of a suggestion.
These treats are ELITE.
I don’t know what’s in them. I don’t WANT to know what’s in them. They’re probably made from chemicals and dreams and the tears of health-conscious dogs. They’re neon yellow. They smell like artificial bacon. They’re perfect.
My human says “these are not good for you” while giving me one. Then gives me another one. Then another. See? Even humans can’t resist them.
Deduction of 1 point: The bag runs out too quickly, and my human refuses to buy them again, claiming they’re “not real food.” Irrelevant. They’re real to ME.
Verdict: Sometimes the gas station knows what’s up.
3. The Vet-Recommended Dental Chews
Rating: 3/10
These are shaped like toothbrushes, which should have been my first warning.
The vet says they “clean my teeth while I chew.” That’s just CHORES disguised as TREATS. What’s next? A treat that vacuums while I eat it? A snack that does my taxes?
They taste like minty nothing. They have the texture of a shoe. They take forever to chew, which my human considers a “benefit” because it “keeps me occupied.” I don’t want to be occupied. I want to be eating delicious things QUICKLY.
Also, my human gets excited when I eat these. “Good boy, Albie! Cleaning those teeth!” The enthusiasm is suspicious. When something is ACTUALLY good, humans don’t need to cheer for you to eat it. The peanut butter jar doesn’t require a hype man.
Verdict: Medicine pretending to be fun. I’m onto you.
4. The “Human Food” Category: Cheese
Rating: 11/10
Is cheese technically a treat? In this house, yes. And it’s the BEST treat.
Cheese is what happens when humans accidentally create perfection. It’s creamy. It’s salty. It comes in many varieties, and I love them all. Cheddar? Yes. Mozzarella? Absolutely. That weird fancy cheese my human eats with crackers? ESPECIALLY yes.
The best part about cheese is the DELIVERY METHOD. It doesn’t come in a bag labeled “dog treats.” It comes from the FRIDGE. The sacred HUMAN FOOD zone. Getting cheese means I’ve transcended regular treat status. I’m getting PEOPLE FOOD.
My human tries to be sneaky about it. “Just a small piece, Albie.” But I know where the cheese drawer is. I’ve memorized the sound it makes when it opens. I will appear in the kitchen before you even touch the cheese, and you WILL share.
Verdict: The gold standard. All other treats are measured against cheese and found wanting.
5. The “Accidentally Dropped” Chicken Piece from Last Tuesday
Rating: 10/10
Let me set the scene: Tuesday night. My human is eating grilled chicken. A piece falls on the floor.
Now, there’s a rule in this house. The “five-second rule” or whatever. But here’s the thing: I can get to floor food in approximately 0.3 seconds. The five-second rule is GENEROUS.
That piece of chicken was still warm. It was seasoned with human spices (possibly dangerous, definitely delicious). It was NOT MEANT FOR ME, which made it taste even better.
My human said, “Albie, no—” but it was too late. I had already entered the food dimension where time moves differently and regrets don’t exist.
Deduction of 0 points: You can’t deduct points from perfection.
Verdict: Forbidden food tastes best. This is science.
6. The Training Treats (Generic Brand)
Rating: 6/10
These are… fine. They’re brown. They’re small. They exist.
My human uses these when teaching me “new tricks” (which is insulting because I already know ALL the tricks, I just choose when to perform them). They’re soft, easy to chew, and completely forgettable.
They’re the equivalent of human saltine crackers. Nobody’s excited about them. Nobody’s writing home about them. But they’re there, and they’re food-shaped, so they serve a purpose.
Bonus point: They come in a large bag, so there are always more. Reliability counts.
Verdict: The Honda Civic of treats. Boring but dependable.
7. The Peanut Butter Jar Itself
Rating: INFINITE/10
I know what you’re thinking. “Albie, the peanut butter jar isn’t a treat. It’s a CONTAINER.”
Wrong. The peanut butter jar is THE treat. It is the ULTIMATE treat. It is the reason I wake up in the morning.
When my human opens that jar, time stops. The squirrels could throw a parade through the backyard and I wouldn’t notice. Gerald himself could knock on the door and I’d ignore him. Because PEANUT BUTTER is happening.
Sometimes my human gives me a spoonful. Sometimes they put it in a toy and make me work for it (annoying but worth it). Sometimes they let me lick the ACTUAL JAR when it’s almost empty, and those are the days I feel truly alive.
Peanut butter is creamy, sticky, delicious perfection. It’s what I imagine clouds taste like. It’s proof that humans, occasionally, get things right.
Verdict: If I could only eat one thing for the rest of my life, it would be peanut butter. I would not get tired of it. I would not regret this decision. I am willing to die on this hill, which is made of peanut butter.
8. The “Special Occasion” Pupcakes from the Pet Bakery
Rating: 8/10
Twice a year — my birthday and Christmas — my human gets me a “pupcake” from the fancy pet bakery downtown.
These are ELABORATE. They have frosting (dog-safe, sadly not buttercream). They have decorations. They’re shaped like actual cupcakes. My human takes photos before letting me eat them, which delays gratification but I allow it because I look GOOD next to a pupcake.
They taste like peanut butter and sweet potato and happiness. They’re soft and moist and everything a celebration should be.
Deduction of 2 points: I only get them TWICE A YEAR. This is an injustice. I should get one weekly, minimum. I have done nothing to deserve this scarcity.
Verdict: Exceptional but tragically rare.
CONCLUSION: THE TREAT BILL OF RIGHTS
After conducting this thorough audit, I’m establishing the following requirements for all future treats in this household:
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Minimum Size Requirement: Treats must be large enough to feel satisfying. I’m not a rabbit.
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Texture Standards: If a treat is harder than a rock, it’s not a treat. It’s a weapon.
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Flavor Honesty: If the bag says “bacon,” I should taste bacon. Not “bacon-adjacent plant protein.”
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No Hidden Vegetables: I see you, sweet potato. I know you’re healthy. I’m not mad. I’m just disappointed.
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Frequency Rights: Good behavior should be rewarded immediately and often. Define “good behavior” loosely.
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Peanut Butter Access: Shall not be infringed.
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The Cheese Clause: All dogs deserve cheese. This is non-negotiable.
I hope this audit has been helpful. I expect compensation in the form of treats, specifically the gas station ones and unlimited cheese.
Overall Assessment: This house has acceptable treat diversity but could improve on treat FREQUENCY and SIZE.
I’m available for follow-up audits. My rates are reasonable (one treat per review).
Thank you for your time.
Albie
Certified Treat Critic
Professional Eater
Amateur Squirrel Nemesis