Halloween Has Gone to the Dogs

It happens ever October and I become giddy when it does.  I love Halloween.  I love the idea of putting out ghost and goblins and all sorts of spooky decorations with buttons I can push as I walk through my house. The spooks play silly Halloween type ditties or have ghoulish laughs and I smile every time I hear them which is often because I constantly push those buttons.   I love the adorable costumed kids coming to my door with their bags and buckets.  I even fill the buckets of the babies in strollers who haven’t the teeth yet for a Twix bar and the oversized guests who toss their cigarettes before they approach my door.  No one will ruin my fun.  If they are willing to participate, I will do my part and I won’t be cleaning egg off my car in the morning.

But this year as an “empty nester” I had a dilemma before me.   With no children at home, exactly who am I decorating for?  It is always easy to justify yourself as you decorate the toilets when you have children at home.  You are sure they will giggle with glee every time they pee.  But what happens when the children are gone?  I thought a lot about those boxes in the attic.  I thought about having to bring each one down the ladder all by myself.  I thought about having to lug them back upstairs on November 1st. Was I being ridiculous?  My husband never denies me the joy of Halloween but I have never seen him pushing the little button to watch that cute ghost dance just one more time.  He probably wouldn’t fret if I didn’t decorate.  But what about the dogs? Maybe I should decorate for the dogs, I thought.  Let me describe my dogs. I don’t have little pups that you can put cute little costumes on for  all to enjoy.  I have eighty pound puppies that would eat the costumes and shred them all over my back yard.  If I took them out on Halloween night, one dog would knock over the little neighborhood ghouls and lick them to death while the other would steal all the treats.  But still, I thought, I could decorate for them.  Surely they would look through the back window and wag their little (okay big) tails in exultation at the sight of the neon ghosts and the cute witch with the sign that reads “I want my mummy!”  To get them in the “spirit”, I could even read them the story of the Great Pumpkin.  Snoopy is a favorite role model in my house.

And yes, as you have gathered, I convinced myself to decorate for the dogs and the boxes came down and the house is decorated stem to stern.  By the front door, I have my wickedly smart hat with the spider web.  I have the “good” candy ready for the sticky-fingered bell ringers so they will remember my house and come  back next year.  Bring on the trick or treaters.

Alright all you Freudians, I know what you are thinking.  Maybe it’s time for me to admit that I do this not for my husband nor my children nor my dogs.  I do this for myself.  You’re probably right and I will think about that as I put the Halloween boxes in the attic and look over at the two dozen boxes of Christmas decorations.  At least the kids will be home over the Thanksgiving holidays to help bring the boxes downstairs.

And for all you cigarette smoking six foot trick or treaters, I meant what I said above.  I will share my candy with you.  Of course, you’ll need an address.  Uhhh…. you can find  me at 1313 Mockingbird Lane.


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