Halloween Horrors

Last night was Hairy S Truman's first Halloween with me. I don't know how he spent Halloween last year - being chased by crazy owners trying to get him to mate with a girl doggie so that they could sell the puppies for hundreds of dollars? Being chased by twenty other orphaned weiners in the backyard of the dachshund rescue?

This year, Trumie spent one hour and fourteen minutes locked in my guest room. The kitties were locked in the craft room. I sat in the living room, bags of candy ready.

Truman barked. And barked. And barked. Continuously. For an hour and fourteen minutes. Between trick-or-treaters, I dashed down the hall to check in on him.

My guest bed had dog poop, dog pee, and dog vomit on it.

Truman cowered underneath the bed, shaking.

"Oh, Stinky man, come here," I said, reaching for the dog. He darted back underneath the bed, as scared as he was the first day I brought him home from the rescue place.

This isn't good. I worked for a year to get him to settle in and trust me. I'm not going to undo it for a night of giving away $50 of candy that my stupid gluten intolerance won't let me even sneak a piece here and there.

I was finally able to pick up the dog and I brought him out to the living room. I put him in his bag (a pink shoulder bag a 'la Paris Hilton) and let him hang out on my shoulder for the next hour.

"What a cute puppy!" the children squealed after I opened the door. I bent to put candy in their sacks. They were more interested in petting the dog. For the love of Pete. You mean to tell me I could have saved $50 on candy and just let kids pet my dog?

Between door bell rings, I cleaned up the poop, stripped the sheets off the bed (and forgot to wash them, I'm remembering as I write this. At least I remembered to toss the poop before answering the door).

At about 8:15, Truman had had enough. He was wiggly and wanted to run around. I still had a fair amount of candy left, but "42nd Street" was starting on PBS and I was getting hungry for dinner.

I turned off my porch lights and let Trumie out of his bag. He squirmed around, licked the freed kitties' rears for them, and ran up his stairs onto the sofa to see what I was having for dinner. I curled up and counted my night's visitors. 80. Not so bad. But what to do about the leftover candy?

I briefly considered unloading it on the office Monday morning, but I hated to see that much money go to expanding my coworker's waistlines.

The Time Machine! I jumped off the sofa and dumped the candy into a plastic sack. I tied it real tight and stuck it into the back corner of my freezer. I'm already three bags of candy up for next year! Come to think of it, I might have found a new investment model - buy Halloween candy for next year at this year's prices, and just stick it in the freezer.

But, as mom says, what if the candy is nasty by next year? Well, then people won't come to my house anymore, thereby obviating the need to by any candy at all.

On second thought, $50 is a small price to pay for seeing cute little kids dressed up in ridiculous costumes. Entertaining for me, character-building for them: Halloween is a win-win situation.