Buckle up, because it seems Meghan Markle's ambitious plan to reign as the queen of pet food, and in a twist, to dethrone Kate's brother's thriving dog food empire, has hit a colossal snag.
The Duchess of Sussex's recent venture into the entrepreneurial world has stumbled before even gaining momentum. Oh, how the mighty have fallen—from royal duties to dog treats! Meghan, seemingly determined to challenge Princess' brother James Middleton and his established high-end dog food business, appears to have bitten off more than she can chew.
Earlier this month, with all the subtlety of a cannonball into a kiddie pool, Meghan teased her legion of fans with an Instagram account for what seemed like the next big thing: American Riviera Orchard, a lifestyle brand reminiscent of a Montecito mansion. Because, really, when you can't outshine them in the royal arena, why not venture into selling dog food, right?
But here's where the plot thickens—or rather, thins out. Despite her vigorous efforts to trademark nearly everything in sight, Meghan's ambitious dream of monopolizing the pet edibles market stumbled right out of the gate. She's yet to offer an actual product for sale. That's correct—our aspiring pet food mogul is all bark and no bite.
Meanwhile, James Middleton isn't merely selling dog food; he's selling a narrative. His business, born from a deeply personal journey through depression, supported by his loyal canine companions, offers a range of meticulously crafted products, from freeze-dried raw food to kibble. It's authentic, heartfelt, and a stark contrast to Meghan's half-baked venture.
Meghan's spokesperson, ever the optimist, claims she's poured over a year of hard work into this passion project, creating products that reflect her values. However, it seems more like a case of "Walmart with a Wallace Collection logo"—an attempt to slap her brand on anything she can conjure up, regardless of quality or coherence.
Now, unsurprisingly, Meghan is on the hunt for a CEO to steer her aimless ship. With her trademark application stuck in bureaucratic limbo, and months away from having a tangible product to sell, her grand launch into the pet food market appears to be indefinitely postponed.
In the end, Meghan's attempt to dominate the pet food industry, while simultaneously competing with James Middleton's genuine enterprise, seems less like a well-thought-out business strategy and more like a haphazard attempt to find her footing post-royalty. With no clear vision, no tangible results, and an endless list of potential products, Meghan's foray into the world of pet treats serves as yet another cautionary tale of lofty ambitions without substance—akin to being "all hat and no cattle," or, in this case, "all bark and no kibble."
