Australian dog food start-up Lyka broke the internet this fall with a bold new commercial that feels more like a horror short film than a typical pet ad. In “The Brutal Pick-Up: A Dog Poo Horror Story”, ominous music and shadowy visuals set the scene as a dog walker’s normal morning spirals into a nightmare over a surprisingly graphic display of canine waste. As the poor owner frantically tries—and fails—to scoop up an especially runny, odiferous pile, the ad hits its punchline: feed your dog real, fresh food and their poo will be far less horrific. The spot ends on an upbeat note with the owner happily strolling the next day after switching to Lyka’s meals. The underlying message is earnest – dog stool is a window into pet health – but the delivery is undeniably gross-out.
The shock value was intentional. Lyka creative director Analise Burwood has said the brand, a relative newcomer in pet nutrition, “can’t afford to be quiet” and needed a disruptive idea to get attention. The ad leans into taboo: “It’s the honest, gross, and undeniable picture of what’s happening on the inside,” Burwood told press. Indeed, the campaign’s tongue-in-cheek horror style was designed to make dog owners squirm and laugh while highlighting a real health issue. Early industry reports praised the move as a brilliant twist on pet advertising, noting that 87% of Lyka customers report better poos after switching to its fresh recipes. In a marketing trade piece, one commentator quipped that Lyka found “marketing genius” hiding in even the messiest moments. The creators even launched a cheekily named “Poo Horror Hotline” to connect concerned owners with vet advice, underscoring the serious tip of the joke.
But as soon as viewers saw the ad on Netflix, the reaction split sharply. Several Netflix viewers reacted viscerally: posts on social media described feeling “sick” or “disgusted,” with some saying they changed the channel to avoid the ick. One viewer complained the screaming and visuals made them “almost throw up.” A B&T news story noted that outraged viewers labeled the commercial “sickening,” “disgusting,” and “horrific.” These complaints piled up until Netflix quietly removed the ad from its streaming service. (Netflix itself declined to comment on the ban.) Even mainstream press covered the saga: News outlets in Australia reported the ad was dropped after the “backlash from viewers over content many would rather not endure during dinner.”
Not everyone thought the ad was over the line. In fact, social media polarized: many pet owners and ad fans applauded Lyka for its raw honesty. On Instagram, some praised it as “the greatest ad of all time” or “hands down the best ad”, loving its uniquely Australian dark humor and the way it tackles an otherwise taboo topic. PerthNow highlights echoed this, quoting one fan: “Absolutely love our humour! Brilliant advertisement!” This camp argues that traditional pet food ads are too saccharine and that real talk—even about smelly poo—deserves a place. They see Lyka’s stunt as clever brand building: the controversy itself became free publicity, driving millions of views online. In their view, if talking about poop gets dog owners thinking seriously about nutrition, it’s a small price to pay.
Industry reaction has been mostly understanding of Lyka’s aims, though not without debate. Marketing analysts point out that challenger brands often have to take big risks, and this bloody twist definitely gets attention. Lyka’s own creative team and agency, Outside In, argued that in a crowded market of wagging tails and slow-motion pups, being unforgettably gross was exactly what was needed. The campaign’s advocates note that it’s well grounded in a real health insight: vets agree that stool quality is a key indicator of a dog’s gut health. In that sense, the ad is less a random gross-out and more a bizarrely effective public service announcement.
On the other hand, critics wonder if there was a line that should not have been crossed. For many viewers, the imagery simply turned them off the brand entirely, a risk that could backfire for any advertiser. The Netflix ban also raises questions about platform guidelines and audience expectations: Netflix’s ad tier is still relatively new, and subscribers might be unprepared for a diaper-change horror show in their living rooms. Some media commentators ask whether short-term shock translates to long-term brand love, or whether Lyka might have alienated as many people as it converted.
In the end, Lyka’s dead-pan horror spot has certainly succeeded in one thing: getting people to talk. Whether it’s hailed as genius marketing or panned as tasteless titillation, the campaign broke through the usual ad clutter. For us, the campaign is a perfect case study in advertising’s risk-reward balance: it’s brazen, memorable and undeniably conversation-starting—but it also runs smack into the limits of mainstream taste. We’ll be watching closely to see if Lyka’s gutsy gamble wins enough loyal customers to justify the ouch factor.
