How I Got Here: Slaw Dog

Since everyone and their grandma is writing about how they got into the industry, I figure it’s time Slaw Dog got my notice.

I recall growing up in a package, surrounded by a group of other dogs. It sucked. I mean, who wants to be stuck in a package of full-grown wieners? This dog had different aspirations.

Unlike most, my ambitions were not to be a video bro or a photo bro or a writer bro in this industry. My goal was simple: Get a ketchup and mustard deal from Heinz. There were a lot of wieners going for the same spot, but I knew I was the best.

Although I was just a simple wiener in a pack full of them, I knew I could make it happen. I recall starting out in a Piggly Wiggly store and thinking to myself: “This is not my future.”

While other dogs were content with such circumstances, this dog was not.

So, I called Heinz. They did not answer.

Not shocking, I mean, who would answer a random dog call?

So, I showed up to their headquarters in Pittsburgh.

It did not go well. I got kicked to the street by security before I could ever talk with the big wigs.

It was then and there, just a lonely dog on the streets that I decided I needed to shift my focus. I needed SLAW!

You see, slaw is one of the most underrated condiments for a dog. Chili? F that shit. Steamed onions? Slap yourself in the face. Dark green relish? I’d rather eat a puke filled dog. You see, slaw is where it and where it will always be.

I reached out to a number of top slaw makers, and after some willing and dealing I was offered a six-figure contract to promote and be the official Slaw Dog of Vurb. Not a bad living for a dog that started at the bottom.

Now I write some shitty blogs for this here site and sit around drinking White Claws until I pass out.

That’s it. That’s how this dog made it.

Signing off,

Slaw Dog (Just a dog trying to find my special bun)




Written by Slaw Dog

Just a dog trying to find my special bun.

Davey Coombs Talks About the Return of Pro Motocross

Mega, Mega Gallery: Millcreek Summer Classic