In pursuit of ‘the peanut butter box’

Unless you’ve been living under a rock, you’re probably familiar with the TV commercial where a very large dog looks out the window and sings, “The peanut butter box is here,” while a very small dog tells him he’s wrong. It’s not the peanut butter box, the small dog says, it’s the box from the company where their owner orders their medicines, which are then hidden in peanut butter for the dogs to eat.

The big dog isn’t having it and continues to sing happily to himself about the peanut butter box as the delivery driver deposits it on the front porch.

I, too, have become absurdly excited about the arrival of the peanut butter box. It’s a dead heat at our house, with me and both dogs stampeding to the porch when a delivery arrives. The dogs usually get there first, by merit of me surrendering the lead so I don’t break my neck. When the box is opened, it’s a testament to the incredible olfactory ability of dogs that they get so excited about hermetically sealed bags of food and treats. The box could contain bags of rocks for all I can tell but my Aussies leap around in a frenzy of delight, knowing Good Things To Eat have arrived.

After I carry the bags of dog chow or packages of treats and diet supplements to their appropriate storage places, the excitement subsides. The dogs go back to their regularly scheduled chaos and I am left alone with a big, empty box. So high is my level of delight with the box I may have been a cat in a previous life.

You might hear me whispering “My precious” as I add it to the collection of boxes from this particular online retailer. I prefer to call it a collection. It sounds much better to say one is collecting something rather than one is hoarding something. I have a plan for them. Large, sturdy boxes are a prize commodity. These boxes in particular are the ideal size for packing up blankets, throws, bedspreads, quilts and other bed linens for an estate sale.

I swear I am not doing extra online shopping just to obtain boxes. That’s just silly. The dogs need food. The cats need food. There’s always a need for treats, shampoo, grooming tools, toys, supplements and chewy things for canine entertainment. (I swear, I will write the second half of the “Buying stupid things for dogs” column one of these weeks.)

The Fed-Ex guy who delivers the peanut butter box is pretty good at finding our house. Heaven knows I give him enough practice. Having unwieldy bags of animal food hand-delivered to my back porch is a guilty pleasure, even if it makes my dogs go nuts. I can always tell when a substitute driver has the route because my packages end up at the neighbor’s house or sometimes, delivered to our machine shed for no apparent reason.

My Aussies are the two most people-loving dogs I have ever owned. My Shelties were snobs and my Belgians didn’t approve of strangers on the place at all nosireebob you run along now and just keep running. Friendliness aside, the Aussies sound like a pack of Rottweilers when they spot a delivery vehicle in front of the house. There’s a great deal of leaping around at the windows and ricocheting off the door and maniacal barking. It looks like so much fun I’m tempted to join them.

Oh, what fun when the peanut butter box is here …

Comments: Melinda.Wichmann@southeastiowaunion.com