I do 90 percent of my retail shopping on-line. As a result, my kids aren’t excited by UPS and Fed Ex deliveries. Boxes inevitably contain things I say are great, but the minions say are boring — shoes and clothes, books, Korean dry food staples, kid-ish art and office supplies, you name it. So they aren’t curious about box arrivals anymore, and I never fess up that most of their Christmas booty comes via delivery as well.
But once in a while a box arrives that just cries out for attention. Last week an enormous box arrived from Amazon. I thought for sure the kids would question its contents, but no. I emptied it under their noses and spirited away the AWESOME stuff in it to a secret place, and then they attacked the vacant box before I could take it out to the garage. The love affair juvenile mammals have with empty boxes is a banal universal constant, like the speed of light or the smell of a bad fart.
Jesse wanted to get in the box and beat it with her fists and feet until it was flat like a pancake, which is a hostile reaction I can’t really explain. I didn’t let her do that, because Nick had already filled it with sofa pillows and a blanket. Box Dog came to be.
For nigh on 10 days, I’ve been in constant communication with Box Dog. He was born in the box, he hangs out in the box, he sleeps in the box. He likes his privacy in the box. He likes the box closed. Today he asked for a box cover.
Hello? Hello? Is anybody home? Arise, Box Dog, and face a new dawn! Your enemy, fluffy white Poodle Dog, is at your gates!
Fluffy white Poodle Dog is sorely troubled by Box Dog and often attacks him. Box Dog is fearless and always prevails.
But who is Box Dog, and what does he look like? Aha! Just as he descends back into his private universe, Box Dog reveals his true identity. He uses his control over the Force to mess with this observer’s camera, so that the pictures come out all blurry.
Box Dog asked me to put his darkening blanket back on. He wanted some head room and decided to keep the flap open for a bit.
Hey, I’m on sick day number 3 with the kids. This is what I’m reduced to. If people can post pictures of cats in containers all day long, I can feel good about posting pictures of my beloved Box Dog. Good times, good times.