YC is a Rottweiler, four years old, forty-two kilos, terrified of the dishwasher. He is also, on paper, the CEO of DogPax. The contract says so. The investors think it is charming. He cannot read.
Three years ago we went to the supermarket and read eleven dog-food labels in a row. Half of them were 40% wheat with ‘real meat flavouring’ tucked under the E-numbers. The other half were pretending to be a yoga brand. We kept paying premium prices for food that we would not put in our own sandwiches.
So we built a recipe. Slow-baked oats, single-source protein, sweet potato, salmon oil, kelp, a vet-formulated mineral pack. We sent samples to forty dogs across a range of breeds, ages and tolerances. Two recipes survived the panel. Those are the two we sell.
YC eats the beef recipe, three cups twice a day. He inspects every pallet that leaves the warehouse by sitting next to it for exactly one minute and then walking away. We do not know what he is checking. We have not had a failed batch since he started doing it, so we keep the practice.
He is intimidating to look at and afraid of brooms. He is the gentlest dog any of us have met. The whole brand, in the end, is him.