Once I published (and helped make the movie version of) A Dog’s Purpose, I became the “dog book guy,” and immediately began receiving offers to pay me for celebrity endorsements. I replied, “writers are not celebrities, just ask my children,” and “thank you but your product looks hazardous to earth life.” My stance is that whatever (dubious) value I might bring to any endorsement would be jeopardized if I, for example, advocated for a dog food that was later determined to be radioactive.
One product in particular, though, has stuck with me: the oddly named Fluff Trough. It’s an elevated bowl designed for dogs with flat faces—though “bowl” implies a raised edge, and the genius of this product is that there is no high faceplate. There’s science behind the concept of a raised platform with no rim, allowing our canine friends—whose noses are directly beneath their eyes and directly above their lips—to feed without choking, snorting, or spraying food everywhere.
I’ve seen this bowl in action with my friend’s Shar-Pei, a dog who, when he first visited my home and scarfed up my own dog’s food from a regular bowl on the floor, sounded like he was choking to death. At the Shar-Pei house (or, “kingdom” as Shar-Peis prefer it be called) the canine eats elegantly and silently from his Fluff Trough.
My dog Tucker has a snout like a Jack Russell Terrier. We had his DNA tested, and the analysis turned up 53 distinct breeds coiled through his double helix. In other words, if my dog became a serial killer, it would be impossible to track him through familial DNA.
At any rate, he does not have a flat face, and the sample Fluff Trough I was given sat in the closet for years, unused—because the bowl on the floor seemed good enough for everyone, except for the occasional visiting Shar-Pei.
But then Tucker did something I’ve been trying for years to avoid doing myself: he got older. He’s now at an age where lowering his head to eat causes discomfort, and he’s having more and more trouble finishing a regular meal. On a whim, I pulled out the Fluff Trough and gave it a go.
The elevated design means a dog’s neck is in a more natural eating position. I tried this on myself, not by eating out of the Fluff Trough, but by experimenting with what it would feel like if, instead of raising my fork to my mouth with my head in a neutral position, I did away with all utensils and leaned forward as if I were in a pie-eating contest. Nothing about this amused my wife.
My scientific discovery is that eating oatmeal without utensils is nearly impossible, even if you do wind up with a free facial.
As an elevated bowl with the crucial feature of not requiring a downward head plunge, the Fluff Trough functions extraordinarily well. Other brands provide elevated bowls, but still have a lip that forces the dog to tilt its head. Flat-faced dogs in particular find this challenging, and many owners are alarmed by the snorting and choking sounds that result.
Tucker is now able, as a senior dog, to eat much more comfortably. I have not yet managed to convince him to use a fork, so the Fluff Trough will have to do.
Sometimes, I think we can agree, when lab results aren’t available, anecdotal evidence is the best we can offer. Happy customers may not be able to quantify the precise impact of a particular feeding solution on their dog’s metabolism or nutritional uptake—but they can certainly report on their dog’s gastrointestinal health and pleasure at mealtime.
For flat-faced dogs and senior dogs in particular, I recommend looking into the Fluff Trough Solution.
About the author:
W. Bruce Cameron is the # 1 NYT and USA Today bestselling author of A Dog’s Purpose and 38 other published novels, most of them with dogs on the cover.
DVM Central is the trusted veterinary marketplace connecting suppliers, veterinarians, and pet owners, promoting direct buying for quality animal health products, and simplifying veterinary supply transactions.

