Halloween through the dogs eye view

It's a beautiful October afternoon when Mom comes home with a huge orange thing in her arms, her other hand carrying an oversized bag of human candy- I think the bag reads Sweet Tarts, but I'm not sure. Sashaying in the door, she sets the orange thing on the counter and walks across the room with the bag of candy, then bends over a bit to greet me, as is her custom. "What is that thing on the counter?" I wonder, as I throw my big paws on the counter beside the orange monstrosity that Mom just brought in so I can get a better look at it. She pets my paw and warns me to get down, but it doesn't stop me. I sniff at the orange thing, hoping for a clue. It doesn't have much of a smell, but Mom seems very interested in it for some reason. Realizing that I'm not putting my feet down until I'm darned good and ready, she takes out a large knife, and then begins to hack at the orange thing, which she calls a pumpkin. "What's going on?" I wonder, as Mom cuts small patches of skin off of the pumpkin. I've never seen her do something so pointless in all my life. And it's messy, too. The pumpkin leaves lots of seeds on the ground beside me while Mom works, which taste rather delicious, come to think of it.

When the cutting is done, she goes into the other room to get a small candle, which she places inside of the pumpkin. The pumpkin itself has changed so much that I don't even recognize it- and I watched the whole process. It now has a large face cut into it- much like Mom's, only scarier. She calls the thing a Jack o Lantern, and says it's a Halloween tradition. I just call it scary, and then I bark at it for a few minutes. Then she puts it outside on the porch and lights the candle in side. So much for the excitement.

Half an hour later, Mom puts on my Halloween tiara and cape on me- she says I must fit the part tonight, since I'm her princess. I grumble for a few minutes, then simply give up. The humans will do what they will do, and we canines must simply give in gracefully to the humiliation. While I'm grumbling, she puts on a fancy dress and her own tiara- she's a princess herself tonight, I'm guessing. What is going on with her tonight? She isn't completely foolish, but you could convince me otherwise right at this moment. What sane human puts on fancy clothes and then sits at home?

A few minutes later, the doorbell rings for the first time and Mom scurries to answer it, leaving me on the couch to watch out the front window at the action. Mom has put lots of human candy in a bowl- nothing for me, I notice with a frown- and she takes the bowl with her to the door. At the door I stop cold. A small human in what Mom refers to as a costume- and he looks like a turtle!! Mom asks if he's a teenage mutant ninja turtle and he says yes as he takes a large Milky Way bar from the bowl. Behind him are about 15 other kids in various costumes. I can't help it- I bark like a maniac until they are all gone, each taking a small treat with them. This continues every time the doorbell rings, until I'm a tired pup and have to lay down.

After an hour of children in costume coming to the door every time I have five minutes of peace, the doorbell goes silent. Mom puts the half enpty candy bowl on top of the fridge and gets me a snack of my own. She says I was quite patient with the kids and I deserve it. Well, DUH! Then she fixes a bowl of microwave popcorn and we sit down to watch TV. She turns on a movie and turns out the lights. What is going on- she never turns out the lights for TV. Watching the movie, I realize why- it is a terribly scary movie, which has me barking to defend Mom from the monster on the screen. Two hours later, I am still shaking from the movie- darn these humans who come up with scary stuff to put on TV. People getting killed, and lots of scary music is enough to set any pup's ears to twitching and their mouths to barking. We must, after all, defend the humans from themselves, right?

Then, after all the fun of the evening, we head to bed- my favorite part of the entire day.