The Biscuit Blues

By Georgie Gurl

Have you ever had that one thing in life that you kind of took for granted, but completely depended on, and then it unexpectedly disappeared? *Poof!*

Well that’s me and the Iams puppy biscuit.

Actually, I didn’t even know what it was called until today. I just know that I’ve looked forward to their savory goodness and crisp crunchiness multiple times a day for as long as I can remember.


When my humans adopted me, they were sent home with a box of these and explicit instructions to give them to me EVERY FIVE MINUTES, and EVERY TIME I DEMAND IT. You can see on the box it even says it: “0% guilt.” Oh yeah! That’s what I’m talkin’ about.

Instead, they put the box in a cabinet in the kitchen and seemed to forget about them. But I didn’t. I would go up to the cabinet and tap it with my nose. “Biscuit. Biscuit. Biscuit,” I would try and tell them with each tap. “Biscuit.”

Sometimes they got it: “Oh, look, Georgie must want a biscuit!”


Other times, they didn’t: “Here, Georgie. Let’s try a CARROT!”

Hmmm. Orange. Cold. Crunch. Nope. Definitely not an Iams biscuit. No bueno.


I decided I had to let them know more concretely that the Iams biscuit was special and what I wanted. So I created a little worship dance. Every time they gave me an Iams biscuit, I would take it, run into the living room, spin around, lay the biscuit down, bow down to the Iams BISCUIT GOD, shake my head around till I felt dizzy, and then devour the small edible piece of heaven. Wheeeeeeeeeeeee!!! Biscuit!!

The humans called it my “cookie dance.” It was probably more like a case of the biscuit DTs. But whatever you call it, it worked. We were speaking the same language and life was good.

Over several months, I received many biscuits and I performed many worship dances. Then one day, I received some seriously bad news.

“Ooops. Looks like we’re out of the Iams biscuits, Georgie. Guess you’re going to get a carrot.”

Noooooooooooooooo!!!! There is no carrot dance, you stupid human! I will eat it, but you will never see me dance again. Me. Want. Biscuit. Hmph!

Time marched on and the human missed my worship dances. As for me, I missed my biscuits. And finally she decided to get me some more. YAY!

There was a problem though. We roamed the aisles of PetSmart. No biscuits.

We went online to and Walmart and every other site we could think of. But no biscuits.


And finally, we learned the horrible truth from a thread on the Iams Facebook page. The puppy biscuits weren’t just out of stock. They have been DIS-CON-TINUED.

No more biscuits. Forever.


If I could cry, I would have. Instead, I looked up at my human with the saddest puppy eyes ever. “Fix it, please,” I said.

“I can’t fix it, Georgie,” she replied.

“But you’re human. You can do anything,” I said.

“I’m sure it seems that way, Georgie,” she said, “But I can’t. I can’t fix this. You’re going to have to find another kind of snack.”

No. There is no other biscuit!


“I’m so sorry, Georgie. I know exactly how you feel. Estee Lauder is always discontinuing the makeup I use and it’s a nightmare finding a good substitute,” she said.

“Estee Lauder? I’d like a makeover, and maybe some nail polish!” I thought, but quickly regained my focus.

Biscuit. Me. Want. Biscuit.

Turns out I wasn’t alone in my misery. Some Beagle in Maryland apparently loves them as much as me, and he is in a deep depression now. Two Yorkies in Michigan with sensitive stomachs are out of luck too. It’s the only snack they liked, their human complained on the Iams Facebook page, and they’ve been on them for 11 years. I can only imagine the withdrawals they were going through.

The situation has been so bad, that some humans have been carefully rationing out their last biscuits to their pups. Others have been shelling out a gazillion dollars to buy one of the few remaining boxes of biscuits for sale on eBay – but my human said no to that.

What to do? Well that’s tricky.

The Iams people suggested some substitutes, but we’re not going to bother. They all got lousy reviews from the other biscuit addicts. Not as crunchy. Not as appealing. Not. My. Biscuit.

At this point, my human said, the only answer was to try and bake me some biscuits from scratch using flour and chicken broth.

I said, fine – and while we’re at it, we can whip you up some homemade makeup too.

Note: This column is dedicated to the Iams Puppy Biscuit. RIP, sweet snack.








Growing Pains

IMG_7998 (1)Like most dogs, I like routine — and my daily routine goes something like this: Get up and get a long tummy rub from my human while I stretch and yawn. Walk around the hood and check out all the fantastic smells. Get a “Good Girl” cookie when I return home and do my little cookie dance, because nothing tastes better than the first treat of the day. Then, I jump up on my leather chair and keep watch on the postal carriers, sandhill cranes and mommies walking their kids while my human types away at her keyboard and sips her coffee.

It’s nothing spectacular, my morning routine, but it’s MY routine and it sort of keeps me grounded.

Only this morning, it didn’t quite go like that. I mean, I got my tummy rub and walk and stuff — and the cookie was lovely, as always. But when I jumped up into my viewing station, my usual perfect landing turned into a sloppy tumble off the edge and I realized I was stuck. Ack!

I hoped my human wouldn’t notice the embarrassing predicament, so I stood very still and rested my  head on the soft leather cushion. I’ve heard that if you stand very still, sometimes, you can actually disappear. Poof! Like David Blaine. But of course, she noticed, and giggled and boosted my rear back into my seat. I wasn’t sure what she thought was so funny about it. It wasn’t funny to me: A shrinking seat. A tumble. A ruined morning.

Anyway, I must have looked pathetic, because then she patted my head and told me something absolutely amazing. “Georgie, it’s okay. Your seat didn’t shrink. You’re growing, sweet girl.”

Huh? Growing? Me? Really?

I honestly hadn’t even considered the possibility — but then I thought about it. During our car ride yesterday, the view was better than ever before. Normally, I just see the treetops whizzing by in a dizzying blur, but yesterday I saw other cars and buildings! And then there was that wrestling session with my buddy, Ivy, night before last. I didn’t have to stand on my tip-toes to get a good grip on her. We were practically eye-to-eye. And there was also that fine moment last night, when I surprised everyone and leapt like a leopard right into the giant human bed. Wow! This growing thing might not be so bad after all.

After the revelation, my human and I headed out into the yard for a quick romp and enjoyed the warm Florida sunshine on my face. And when we headed back in, I leapt more carefully into my viewing station and didn’t slide off this time. Not every tumble, I realized, is a disaster. Sometimes, it just means you’re growing.