Our story
We started with the
wrong half of a moment.
A note
There is a moment, most evenings, that repeats in almost every home with a dog in it.
Something is unwrapped. A head lifts. Two sets of eyes meet across a room, and a small negotiation begins. It looks like begging. It is closer to ritual.
Sharing food is the oldest way we have of saying the important things — you are safe here, there is enough, you belong to this. Dogs joined that circle earlier than almost anything else we call family, and they have been reading our hands at the table ever since.
But most of the time the honest answer is that they cannot have what you are having. So the ritual breaks. You eat, they wait, and the moment passes without either of you properly in it.
That is the whole reason two tins exist instead of one. Not because your dog needs a cookie — they do not — but because the gesture deserves a version that works for both of you.
How we work
Three rules we don't bend.
Small batch
Runs we can watch
We make in quantities small enough that someone is actually looking at the trays. It caps how fast we can grow and we have made peace with that.
Short lists
Nothing we can't name
The dog side is one ingredient. The human side is the short list you would use at home. If something needs a paragraph to justify, it does not go in.
Made to keep
Tins, not pouches
Metal, resealable, and built to be refilled rather than replaced. The box is the only part of the parcel designed to be let go of.
How it came together
Four decisions,
in order.
The problem
Every treat on the shelf was made for exactly one half of the household. The other half sat and watched.
The prototype
One tin with a divider down the middle. It tested badly — a divided tin reads as one thing shared reluctantly.
The fix
Two separate tins, nested in one box. Two portions, equally intended. Nothing about it says leftovers.
Now
Small runs out of New York, announced to the pack list before they go anywhere else.
Come in
Open both lids. Sit on the floor if you like. It takes ninety seconds and it is the best part of the day.
Questions? Write to
YouAndChew@Outlook.com