A Heartfelt Reclaiming of What it Means to Nourish Our Pets

By Tristan Harris, Animal Nutritionist — MADRA

The dialogue around pet nutrition is broken. It obsesses over isolated nutrients, percentages on a label, and the illusion of a "complete and balanced" formula. But in doing so, it misses the most vital truth, the very bedrock of what it means to truly nourish an animal: every aspect of their being, their evolutionary blueprint, their profound interaction with their world, and critically, how they engage with their food, is not a secondary consideration. It is the fundamental core of nutrition itself. This truth is almost entirely absent from the prevailing narrative, and yet, it is more important than anything else.

Imagine if every single one of your meals had to be “nutritionally complete.” Measured. Verified. Stamped by a laboratory. Sounds absurd, right? Because it is. But the absurdity runs deeper than just numbers. It's the profound oversight of the animal as a dynamic, living organism designed for a rich, interactive eating experience.

And yet, that’s the expectation we’ve placed on feeding dogs and cats. That every bowl must meet a static formula. That feeding is a science of numbers, not a relationship that honours their intrinsic nature. That real food, in its natural, challenging forms, the very forms they were built to consume, is dangerous.

I don’t buy it. My challenge goes beyond ingredients; it’s a rejection of a philosophy that has stripped feeding of its fundamental biological and behavioural context. We have not only altered what they eat, but more devastatingly, we have taken away how they were built to consume it.

Balance, as it’s preached in the pet food industry, isn't about holistic health. It’s about control. Control over a narrative that conveniently ignores the complex, interactive reality of an animal's needs.

But animals aren’t built on calculators. They’re built on rhythm. Pattern. Pulse. They are physically and mentally designed to rip, tear, crunch, dissect, and work for their sustenance. No wolf meticulously counts manganese. No wildcat weighs its perfectly balanced prey. They eat diversity, seasonally, with appetite, thriving through range, interaction, and the consumption of whole food forms.

What I believe instead is this: true nourishment is an active, adaptive process, not a passive delivery of pre-mixed nutrients. It acknowledges that the animal's interaction with its food is paramount. Some days, your dog will crave fat. Others, muscle. Sometimes bone, and I mean real, structural bone, connected to sinew and meat, demanding the engagement of their jaws, their muscles, their minds. Bones are not optional. Bones connected to other bones, requiring them to process parts of a whole, are not optional. This is all fundamental. Sometimes the most nourishing thing isn’t food at all, it’s the pause between meals. The fast. The reset.

But this understanding terrifies people, doesn’t it? Because we’ve been trained to believe animals are fragile. That "balance" is a precarious state only achievable through a laboratory. Crucially, we've been conditioned to fear the very foods and feeding behaviours that are essential to their design.

That’s not biology. That’s branding. Pet food companies didn’t invent nutrition, but they did invent a pervasive fear of nature and a misplaced trust in industrial imitation.

They told you bone is risky. They are wrong. For dogs and cats, consuming appropriate raw, meaty bones is not a reckless gamble; it is a biological imperative. It's their toothbrush, their jaw and skull shaper, their source of minerals in their most natural state, their mental stimulation. To suggest that a pre-mixed, powdered calcium source in a kibble can replace the multifaceted benefits of an animal engaging with a whole bone is to fundamentally misunderstand (or ignore) their biology. They need access to real food, real texture, real substance, and the innate experience of eating it.

They told you you’re not qualified. They are wrong. You, who live with and observe your animal, who can see the light in their eyes or the dullness, who can appreciate their innate behaviours, are uniquely positioned to understand their needs, especially when you reconnect with these foundational principles of feeding.

What I believe is this: a meal doesn’t have to be "balanced" by a static, industrial formula. It has to be real. It has to be digestible. Species-appropriate. Varied over time. And absolutely, it must be presented and consumed in a way that honours the animal's evolved physiology, their behaviours, and their deep-seated need for interaction with their food. The act of eating is as important as what is eaten. This approach supports the animal’s terrain, their entire being, respecting their intrinsic nature.

I believe in dynamic feeding. Patterned feeding. Feast and fast. Not static balance, but adaptive strength born from a diet that is whole, varied, and profoundly engaging for the animal. Because that’s how wild systems thrive. This is about honouring the integrity of the animal, the integrity of the food, and the integrity of their interaction.

This isn’t guessing. It means observing. Learning what the body is asking for. Supporting physiology, not overriding it. It means understanding that the tearing of meat, the crushing of bone, the mental and physical effort involved in consuming whole food forms are not incidental; they are integral, essential components of nourishment.

It means trusting that dogs and cats are not broken machines. They’re resilient systems, shaped by millennia of natural design for a dynamic, interactive relationship with their food. When you feed in rhythm with that understanding and embracing, not fearing, their fundamental needs and behaviours, you unlock vitality that no premixed meal can ever manufacture.

So no, I don’t believe in "balanced meals" that disregard the animal's very essence and the foundational importance of their interaction with food. I believe in resilient animals, nourished in mind, body, and spirit through an engagement with their food that is as old as their lineage. I believe in you, feeding with your own two hands, understanding that whole bones are not optional, that the act of eating is fundamental, and that this approach is more important than anything else for their true well-being. And I believe that the most radical act of care is to declare: I trust the animal's evolved nature and body far more than I trust an industry label.