It was quite a party. Really it was. I paid for it the next day, of course. I mean, I live a pretty simple life. And a party like that – all that indulging. Well, it takes something out of you.
But from the moment I got into that black radio-car to be driven to the W Hotel Downtown, I knew I’d arrived. And then the party itself. Treats everywhere. Fancy bowls. They even gave me a foulard to wear around my neck. That’s class.
“This,” I thought “Is where I belong: at an Iams So Good blogger event in a swank downtown hotel.” It’s about time someone recognized how important I am to the blogging process: would this post on depression exist without me? Would this post have been possible without me allowing my small humiliation to be exploited for laughs? I think not. I think not.
So I walked into that party like I owned the place, smelled a few rear ends, Barked a bit to say hi to the ladies, wagged my tail, and enjoyed the view. I would have marked my territory, but unlike some other celebri-dog who was there who I won’t name, I wasn’t raised in a barn. I mean, I may have been found in a cardboard box on the side of the road in Arkansas, but I’m no bumpkin. (Though: full disclosure – sometimes, when my Momowner is bugging me, I mark EVERYthing. I mean, there’s not a patch of grass, a hydrant, a pile of trash that I won’t stop to sniff and spray. Call it my revenge for all those times she leaves me at home all day. She makes me wait? I’ll make her wait. Sniff and spray, baby. Sniff and spray.)
Anyway, I knew I was a long long way from Arkansas when I found myself dogging around with Art Smith – celebrity chef, multiple pet owner, and Oprah confidant? Plus He dug me, I could tell. If only my Momowner hadn’t been in the picture, too. It would have been perfect.
And here’s a look at what we were all there for: the new Iams #SoGood dog food. Though I have to admit – I never did understand calling it dog food: all food is dog food. If I can reach it, I can eat it. That’s pretty much my rule. (Don’t tell my MomOwner – she might stop using her snout-level coffee table at parties.)
Anyway – this new stuff from Iams has no added sugar (I’m sweet enough), no dyes (my personality is all the color I need) and no artificial goopy stuff. Chef Art said he’d even tasted it. I was impressed.
My MomOwner was a little concerned about the Chicken by-products listed on the ingredients list. But then we spoke to Jason, from Iams, and he explained that, well, I’m a dog! I’ll eat any part of a chicken. And, unlike other companies that are trying to pass off feathers as protein (really, guys?), Iams only uses the actual protein parts of the chicken. And no yucky stuff, no fakey fake stuff. Only the good stuff.
Plus, it’s cute. People think we don’t care, but I like the fun shapes: the drum stick, the O, the heart. I like cute as much as the next dog. Presentation is everything.
Hey, I’m not a NYC dog for nothing. I appreciate the finer things in life: a well worn tennis ball, an open toilet lid, a four year old who drops half his hamburger right where I just so happen to be standing. Yep. Life is good. So Good.
This is a guest post by Bentley. All opinions are his.
This is a Sponsored Post for SheSpeaks/Iams.