It needs to be pointed out, however, that Harry’s Boss is a) a dog, and b) in possession of a non-functioning mouth. How does he even eat? It’s a mystery even to him.
Fortunately for Harriet — who is also a dog — the neighbors (dogs, natch) always keep metric fucktons of Gravy Train on hand… and don’t worry about Harry’s Boss preferring his processed and extruded horse bits served “crunchy dry,” Gravy Train is so kickass that you can add plain water to it and it turns into a goddamn four-star meal at a fancy French joint*, like the kind they got down by the Champ da Leetz! Yeeeeeaaaahhhh!
* — Fancy French dog joint, that is.
PS — Harry got a promotion and is now principal VP in charge of Butt Sniffing at Acme Fireplugs, Inc. Don’t say Gravy Train never did nothin’ for ya, pal.
UPDATE: Somebody just pointed out to me that, from certain angles, “GRAVY TRAIN” on the bag closely resembles “RAW PAIN.” More on this important breaking story as it develops.