Pet treats seem chop-lickin' good

Has anyone else noticed how weird pet food has become?

What finally stopped me in my tracks at the supermarket were the bottles of "Savory Sauce" for dogs. At $3.19 a pop, they came in bacon, beef, country-style chicken, pot roast and turkey flavor. They look just like my teriyaki marinade, only they're more expensive.

As I looked around, the weirdness grew. For dogs, there are "Deli Bites" chewy chicken sandwiches (as if dogs had hands), "Hot Doggity" treats and "Roverolis."

Many offerings mimic human fare. Strawberry yogurt for dogs — yes, yogurt for dogs — comes in a four-pack at $1.99. "Tater Hides" are ranch-flavored rawhide discs that come stacked in a cylindrical container. Pringles, anyone?

"Granola hides" are made from oats, honey, apples, peaches, rice, peanuts and rawhide. Until we reached the rawhide, this sounded so good I was ready to serve it for dessert at my next dinner party.

"Canine carry outs" are pocket-size pouches of "goodies on the go." They're a bit pricey at $4.19, but apparently such busy dogs can afford them.

The cartoon dog Scooby-Do has "Scooby Snacks" in "new shapes and colors!" Before you plunk down that $3.19, consider two points:

Dogs are nearly color-blind.

Nearly every dog I've ever seen skids to a stop in front of its bowl and eats its food as quickly as caninely possible. Ever seen a dog pick out all the green-shaped bits? Save the pink ones for last? Turn its nose up at anything that wasn't shaped like an itty-bitty bone? In short, do anything that postponed its meal for even a hundredth of a second?

The pinnacle of weirdness may well be Ap-paw-tizers, which describes itself as a "party mix" of dog treats. What, is your dog planning to throw a bridal shower? A Super Bowl get-together with the old gang? Is this what they are serving in the dogs-playing-poker painting?

With the exception of the time-honored "hairball control" cat food, the rest is almost unrecognizable from just a few years ago. Cat owners can choose between pouches of goop now called "Upstream Dream" (salmon and crab), "Hook, Line and Sinker" (red snapper), "What's the Catch?" (tuna) or "Deep Sea Delight" (mackerel).

Fancy Feast comes in at least 35 varieties, meaning your cat could have a different entree every night for more than a month. Meanwhile, the humans in the household start to hit leftovers around Day 5.

Again, I must ask: Have you ever seen a cat boycott "Rotisserie-flavor" chicken in preference for "Country-style" chicken? My own cat seems attracted to anything that is opened with a can-opener.

Clearly, there is more going on here than the very understandable desire to nurture one's pet. Perhaps we've used so much willpower resisting all the yummy selections in the human aisles that we can't say no to a "savory pate of seared Ahi tuna," even if it is just for Muffin.

There has to be some explanation for why Fido's eating better than we are.

People used to worry about becoming so poor in old age they'd be forced to eat cat food. We have both good and bad news on that front: The fear is obsolete, for it appears cat food tastes way better than it used to.

The bad news: You can no longer afford it.