I emptied the last bag and walked into the living room.  “Hon, do you realize that this is the fifth one I bought this month?”

      “Are you sure?”  He said.

     “Yes.  We’re going through it like crazy.”

     “That does seem like a lot.”

     I motioned for him to follow me back into the kitchen.  “You’re sure it’s not you?”

     “Yeah.  I only use it once a day and not every day.”

     “I guess we need to talk to him.”

     We walked into the living room and sat down in the chairs facing the couch.  He was on the couch eagerly looking from my face to Dear Hubby’s.  This wasn’t going to be easy.

     I began, “This is an intervention”

     DH added, “We need to discuss your addiction.”

     “We understand and we love you.  But Gavin, you are peanut butter addicted.”

     With the words peanut butter Gavin’s ears moved forward, and his tail wagged.  He leapt from the couch and ran to stand by the cupboard.

     “I blame the vet,” I told DH as I scooped some peanut butter from the jar, popped an allergy pill on the top, and had Gavin lick his medicine from the spoon.