It was supposed to be a book. In 1975, Gary Dahl, a struggling California ad man, was sitting at a bar with friends who were complaining about their pets: the expense, the trouble with walking and training, the furniture getting destroyed. He deadpanned that he didn’t have those problems because he had “a pet rock.” Years later he remembered, “This got a huge laugh from a very jaded group. So I was encouraged to expand upon the story.”

He spent two months writing a satire of a dog-training manual, with sections on health care, history of the breed, simple obedience, and tricks like playing dead: “Your PET ROCK will take to this trick like a duck takes to water… Rocks enjoy this trick so much that often, when you’re not even looking, they’ll actually practice it on their own.”[1]

Dahl struggled to find a publisher, then thought of his chapter on selection: “One must be very cautious in choosing the perfect rock—a rock which will be a pleasure to own, and become a faithful, loyal companion—before embarking upon the rigorous training schedule outlined in this book.” He realized he could package the book with a special “pedigreed” rock, skip the publishing market completely, and sell it through gift and stationery stores.

That fall, Neiman-Marcus ordered five hundred Pet Rocks, and by October, Dahl was shipping out ten thousand a day. He named his company Rock Bottom. That’s how the receptionist answered the phone: “You’ve reached Rock Bottom.”

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Special thanks to Henry Satterwhite for suggesting the Pet Rock.

Links:

• Gary Dahl, The Care and Training of Your Pet Rock (1975) - Internet Archive

  
  

• 1975 audio interview: How a discussion about pets turned into the Pet Rock phenomenon – CBC Archives, November 8, 2018

  
  

• Dahl’s winning entry for the 2000 Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest for the worst opening sentence to a novel: “The heather-encrusted Headlands, veiled in fog as thick as smoke in a crowded pub, hunched precariously over the moors, their rocky elbows slipping off land's end, their bulbous, craggy noses thrust into the thick foam of the North Sea like bearded old men falling asleep in their pints.”

  
  

• Advertising for Dummies – Gary Dahl (2007)

  
  

• 2006 interview with Gary Dahl by Carolyn Kingsnorth, Jacksonville Review

This post is part of The American 250, a series featuring 250 objects made by Americans, located in America, in honor of the country's 250th anniversary. 250 words on 250 works, from January 1 to December 31, 2026.

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[1] The book is genuinely funny. Here are the instructions for teaching COME:

To teach the command COME, place your rock on the floor or ground and take a few steps backward. Next, bending over from the waist, place your hands upon your knees and face your rock. Now, with firm authority, say COME BRUTUS. (If you have not named your rock Brutus you may wish to say something else.) Repeat the command, COME BRUTUS.

Assuming your rock is normal it will probably not respond.

Start again.

Bending over from the waist face your rock, clap your hands, and let your face light up as you say, COME BRUTUS, C’MON FELLA, HERE BOY, and stuff like that. Now, start walking slowly toward your rock. Incredibly, as you walk toward your rock, you will notice that it is actually coming closer. This means your PET ROCK is learning the command, COME.

Praise your rock and give it a pat of approval.

https://archive.org/details/pet_rock_manual_original/page/n7/mode/2up