Commentary - Stephanie Esworthy: A trust betrayed

One of the biggest flaps in Congress occurred when President Franklin D. Roosevelt sent a U.S. Destroyer to the Aleutian Islands to retrieve his Scottie Fala, left behind in the confusion of an official visit.

It was a moment of high dudgeon as partisan complaining erupted over the use of taxpayer funds for the trip. Roosevelt passionately rebutted the accusations. “… Attack my policies, that’s fine … but when they attack my little dog Fala, that’s going too far!” America cheered and the matter was dropped. When I visited FDR’s Memorial in D.C., friends told me to rub the head of Fala’s statue for good luck. Today, we’ll need it as we wait anxiously for the next pet food recall bulletin.

FDR had people to shop for him, but like most Americans I stood in pet food aisles each week examining labels for long minutes. I tried to decide if I was providing the very best choice, consulted with fellow shoppers and swapped tips about feeding finicky felines.

I trusted those producing the cans depicting smiling dogs and graceful cats devoted themselves to pet nutrition and to making food flavorful and safe.

In TV ads, owners watch lovingly as the hardest-to-please animal gobbles wet food slathered with savory gravy. Companies know we want pet food to look appetizing to us. We humans love our gravy. And manufacturers throw a few peas and carrots into the mix because some of us think dogs should eat vegetables like we do. We learned the manufacturer’s mantra too: Never give your pet human food. Stick with our scientific stew.

Betrayal of trust is a vice that ranks number one in my book. It’s at the heart of most situations leading to bad outcomes, including premature death. As I stood there in the store patiently comparing one can to another, I trusted that each brand differed from the next.

I never imagined that more than 100 store and major label brands across America each dipped into the same poisonous slurry. All of the eye-appealing gravy was concocted with the same contaminated wheat gluten from China. This blew away my preconceived notions. I always thought of China as a vast underdeveloped country where over a billion people, mostly peasants, subsisted at basic levels.

Now I find that they’re sending us wheat, not the other way around. Do our carnivorous companions need wheat to make gravy that pleases us, which then is held together with a plastic called Melamine, a byproduct of several pesticides?

Back in 1963, I was the proud purchaser of my first brittle plastic kitchenware set called “Melamine.” Were those avocado-green dishes leaching poison into my dinner?

In most states, pets are considered property. Betrayers have no corporate worry about the cost of lives cut short. The dreaded lawsuit that forces other companies to behave is limited for them to what you paid for your property.

In hindsight, the wisest counsel I received before the recall was from the pleasant shelter manager Taryn Blonder at Association for Animal Rights Adopt-a-Pet Center on Main Street, Reisterstown. As she handed me my newly adopted senior cat, I asked Taryn what Domina had been used to eating. She said that cats in her care preferred a basic dry kibble, flavorful and easy on the digestive tract. Her small well-run operation would avoid the recall by keeping it simple.

I was ready to rescue again because in late December when the $14.3 billion dollar industry knew there was a problem, but had not announced the recall, my beloved cat Ralphie died suddenly, mysteriously. I have only his ashes. I disposed of the lovingly chosen but tainted food before the announcement. I will never know the truth.

Stephanie Esworthy was director of Media and Public Relations and the Baltimore City Film Commission for former Mayors William Donald Schaefer and the late Clarence “Du” Burns and served as head of Baltimore City’s Bureau of Music in every city administration since Mayor Theodore McKeldin. She may be reached at steph21093@verizon.net.