BarkZen ad: Help Your Dog Feel Like Themselves Again

I told my vet of 22 years to go f*ck himself in his own exam room, with my golden too tired to stand. Then I walked out and did in 6 weeks what he couldn't do in 2 years. Last Sunday, my golden, Sam, jumped into the back of my car on his own. Then he pulled me the whole loop down to the river and back. He's 10. He hadn't done either one since he was 8. I'm 67. Every golden I ever had before Sam was gone by 10 or 11. And the man who told me that was normal was my vet of 22 years. --- My name is Sharon. I drove a school bus in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, for 31 years. I've buried a husband, raised two kids, and never once missed a shot record for any dog I've ever owned. I'm not the kind of woman who talks back to a doctor. I'm the kind who brings a tin of cookies to the clinic every Christmas. Dr. Whitaker has been my vet since 2004. He put down my golden Lucy at 10. He put down my golden Bo at 11. Both times he held my hand in that exam room and said the same thing. "That's what goldens do, Sharon. That was a good long life." I believed him. Why wouldn't I? Sam was my husband Don's last pup. Don picked him out of the litter four months before he died. My grandkids learned to walk holding onto Sam's fur. --- When Sam was 8, he started turning for home halfway through our walk to the river. He'd stop at the bottom of my porch steps and stand there before he'd climb them. He stopped meeting me at the door. A 20-minute walk and he'd sleep the whole afternoon. But on the rug, he was fine. Tail going. Eyes bright. He looked like the same dog. So I took him in. Dr. Whitaker listened to his chest for about a minute. "His heart sounds fine, Sharon. He's just slowing down." On my way out, the girl at the front desk rang me up for a bag of the senior food from the wall behind her counter. There was a little sign on the shelf. DOCTOR RECOMMENDED. $79 a bag. --- I did everything that clinic told me. Every single thing, for two years. The senior food, bag after bag, from that front desk. The joint chews for his hips. Pain pills when the joint chews didn't help. A ramp for the back of my car. I wrote it all down on the kitchen calendar, the way I used to log my bus route. The walk went from the river loop… to the corner and back… to the mailbox. Then he stopped riding along to my grandson's ball games. Then he stopped sleeping at the foot of my bed, because he couldn't make the jump. My grandkids started lifting his back end up the porch steps. Nobody asked them to. --- At 9, Dr. Whitaker said it again. "He's just slowing down." At 10, Sam couldn't stand up in the exam room. He lay flat on that cold floor and wouldn't get up for the scale. The tech had to lift him onto it. My son Brian drove us that day, because I can't lift 80 pounds of dog into a car anymore. Dr. Whitaker listened to his chest. Then he looked at me and smiled. "He's just slowing down, Sharon." The second year in a row. "He's ten. That's a good long life for a golden." Then he told me to pick up another bag of the senior food on my way out. I looked at Sam lying on that floor. I thought about Lucy. I thought about Bo. And something in me just broke. --- I stood up. "Two years of your senior food. Your joint chews. Your pain pills. Your bills. You put down Lucy at 10 and Bo at 11 and held my hand and called it a good long life." "Now he can't even stand up in your exam room, and you want to sell me another bag." "Dr. Whitaker… you can go f*ck yourself." The tech dropped her clipboard. I said it again, slower, so he'd hear every word. Then I got down on the floor and got Sam up on his feet, and we walked out through a full waiting room. --- Brian didn't say a word until we were in the car. "Mom. Go back in there and apologize." That night my daughter Tracy called me. "Mom, he's a VET. He's been your vet for 22 years. Brian says you made the receptionist cry." Neither one of my kids asked about Sam. I've never felt so alone in my own family. --- That Friday I loaded three unopened bags of that senior food into my car. I couldn't stand to look at them anymore. I drove them to the county shelter to donate them. Sam came too. He goes everywhere with me. The woman at the intake desk was named Gail. She's worked that desk for 24 years. She told me she's seen more than 300 goldens come through her door, most of them dropped off at 10 and 11 with the same story. "He's just old." Then an old golden with a white face got up from under her desk and walked over to me, wagging. "That's Penny," Gail said. "She's 16." 16… I'd never once seen a golden that old in my life. --- Gail read the back of one of my bags. Then she looked out the window at Sam in my back seat. "Does he quit halfway through the walk? Or is he slow all day?" "Halfway. He's fine on the rug." "Then he's not old," she said. "That's his heart." "An old dog is slow at everything, all day long. A dog with a starving heart is fine lying on the rug, then runs out of gas halfway down the street." "The heart runs on taurine. Goldens are bad at making their own. The rest has to come from their food." "And that bag is short. It's like a car running on a quarter tank that nobody ever fills up. It runs fine in the driveway. Then it dies halfway to the river." --- "But I got that food from my vet," I said. Gail turned the bag over in her hands. "Did he have a whole wall of it behind his front desk?" "With a little sign. Doctor recommended." She opened a drawer under the intake desk and pulled out an old blue binder. "I was a vet tech for nine years before I came here. This is from my nutrition class." She flipped it open to the handouts and turned it around so I could read it. The same logo that was on my bag was printed at the bottom of every single page. "The company that makes that food paid for my nutrition class," she said. "They do the same thing at the vet schools. So your vet learned dog food from the people selling it." "Then they put a wall of it behind his front desk. And he makes money on every bag you carry out." I thought about that little sign. DOCTOR RECOMMENDED. I'd bought nineteen bags… He'd sold me their food for two years, and called my dog old. --- "He went to vet school," I said. "Why should I believe you over him?" "You don't have to believe me. Believe UC Davis." "In 2003, UC Davis found dogs eating ordinary dry food that said complete and balanced on the bag, and they were running short on taurine. Nothing changed for dogs after that. There's still no taurine minimum for dog food." "In 2018, the FDA had to open an investigation into dog food and dogs' failing hearts. 524 reports. 119 dogs dead." "And that same year UC Davis looked at goldens with taurine-starved hearts. Once their taurine was restored, 23 out of 24 got better." Then she reached down and scratched Penny's ears. "Goldens used to live to 15 and 16. My grandmother's did." "I started Penny on taurine the year that golden study came out. She was 8, and she was turning for home on our walks." "She's 16 now. She still walks me to my car every night." --- "Okay," I said. "What aisle is it in?" "No. Absolutely not." "Amazon, then? Walmart?" "No. Not for a dog who couldn't stand up in his own vet's office." "Half the taurine out there never lists a dose. The other half nobody ever tested." She tore a donation receipt off her pad and wrote three things on the back. Tested on every batch for anything that could hurt him. A full 900 milligram dose, printed right on the label. A taste he'll actually eat. At the bottom, she wrote one name. BarkZen. "It's what Penny gets," she said. "And every senior dog in our back kennels." "The only place you get it is their official website. That's the only place it's guaranteed safe, pure and a full dose. Everything else is a risk." "And they give you 90 days to get your money back. You don't even have to ship it back." Then she looked out at Sam again. "Give it a couple of weeks. It has to build back up in his body." I ordered it in that parking lot with Sam's chin on my shoulder. --- The tub came on Tuesday. Light yellow powder, the scoop already inside. I put one scoop on Sam's dinner. He gobbled it like a treat. Then he pushed the empty bowl across the kitchen floor with his nose, looking for more. Nothing else happened that first week. Gail had warned me. The second week, I came home from the grocery store and Sam was standing at the door. Tail going. Waiting for me, the way he used to. The third week, he went up the porch steps without stopping at the bottom. Nobody lifted him. The fourth week, we walked the whole loop to the river. On the way back, he was the one pulling ME. My grandson Caleb was with us. He stopped dead on the sidewalk. "Grandma! Sam's RUNNING!" The fifth week, I woke up with 80 pounds of golden asleep across my feet. He'd made the jump onto my bed on his own. The sixth week, I opened the back of my car to load the groceries. Before I could pull out the ramp, Sam jumped right in. I sat down on the bumper and cried. --- I filmed him the next morning. Jumping into the car, then pulling me the whole river loop. I sent it to both my kids. Nobody answered for an hour… Then Tracy texted me. "Is that SAM?" --- Two weeks later, a reminder card came in the mail from the clinic. Sam was due for his senior checkup. Tracy insisted on driving me. "So you can apologize," she said. The waiting room was full again. When the tech called his name, Sam trotted into that exam room ahead of me, and he jumped up onto the scale himself. Dr. Whitaker listened to his chest. Then he listened a second time… He looked at the chart. Then at Sam, standing there wagging. "What have you been doing?" "Taurine," I said. "A real dose, on his food." Then, loud enough for the front desk to hear, "And I won't be needing any more of your senior food." The girl at the front desk looked at the floor. Tracy looked at me like she'd never seen me before. Dr. Whitaker didn't say anything. He just wrote it down on the chart. I never did apologize. In the car, Tracy sat behind the wheel for a long time before she started it. "I'm sorry, Mom." --- Sam and I still walk to the river every morning. Caleb runs the last stretch with him. Sam beats him every time. --- If your golden is 7, 8, 9 or 10, and somebody you trust just told you that's a good long life… don't believe it. If they turn for home halfway through the walk, stop at the bottom of the stairs, or sleep all afternoon after a short walk, it's not old age. Their heart isn't getting enough taurine to pump strong. Goldens can't make enough taurine on their own. The rest has to come from their food. And there's still no taurine minimum for dog food. When UC Davis restored taurine in goldens with taurine-starved hearts, 23 out of 24 got better. BarkZen is third-party tested on every batch for literally anything that could possibly hurt your dog. The only things in it are the things named on the label. It's a full 900 milligram dose of taurine per scoop, plus three heart-critical supporting nutrients. And it comes in a natural chicken flavor that smells and tastes like a treat… so they actually WANT to eat it. Just one scoop a day on the food they already eat. Over 48,984 dog moms have used it. 94% notice their fur baby is happier and healthier. Right now it's up to 65% off with free gifts on your first order. And if it doesn't work, you're covered by the 90-day money-back guarantee. You don't even have to ship it back. It only comes from the official BarkZen store. Not Amazon, not the pet store, and not your vet's front desk. Click below to get yours right now. 👉 getbarkzen.com/taurine Sharon, 67 EDIT: So many of you asked what Gail wrote on the back of that receipt. It's BarkZen. I only buy it from their own website. Here's the link: 👉 getbarkzen.com/taurine P.S. If your golden turns for home halfway through the walk, waits at the bottom of the stairs, or stopped meeting you at the door… it's not "just slowing down." Goldens used to live to 15 and 16. Their heart is starving for taurine, and you can put it back. P.P.S. If your dog is already on heart medicine, don't stop it. Tell your vet you're adding taurine. Penny turned 17 last month, and Gail says she's still walking her to the car every night. Click below to get yours. 👉 getbarkzen.com/taurine