Trick-or-Treat Canine Style
October 19, 2009 JerseyGrins
I consider myself very young, but I must admit I’m having grandmotherly feelings.
I’ve tried to squelch these feelings. I’ll be shopping at All-Mart and a gooey-faced two year-old screams nearby. I still want to be a grandma. I head to my sister Linda’s house and help with baby Sean. Despite messy, odiferous diapers and an occasional surprise shower, I still want to be a grandma. As I throw canned beans in my cart at the supermarket, I hear a pre-schooler with spiky blonde hair whining repeatedly, “I want Reece’s Pieces! I want Reece’s Pieces! I waaaaaant em’!!” No good. I still want to be a grandma.
One Sunday my husband Scott and I are walking our golden retriever pup around the neighborhood. Miss Penny Lane prances down the street—she has a new pink scarf and she’s lookin’ good. It’s at that moment that The Great Thought comes into my brain.
“Scott! I’ve got it. Let’s dress Penny Lane up for Halloween and go trick-or-treating. Wouldn’t that be fun? Just like having our own grand daughter.”
We make a beeline to downtown Somervile in search of a doggie Halloween costume and perhaps some moose-tracks ice cream. It doesn’t take long to scout out a pet store.
Inside the store, Scott and I paw through canine costumes. Should Penny Lane be a ballerina in a pink net tutu for Halloween? No, too sissified. How about a pirate? I think a bit. The eye patch could be problematic. An inmate? No, horizontal black stripes are not slimming on any female. Finally, we find the perfect costume. Miss Penny is about to become Luau Dog.
The night before Halloween arrives. Scott and I put on “Last Mango in Paris” by Jimmy Buffett and excitedly rip open the costume packet. We pull a pink flowered lei around Penny’s neck and snap a Hawaiian shirt on her body. We tape a glow stick onto Penny’s tail for safety’s sake. Her plastic orange pumpkin is ready for Halloween loot. Scott and I run upstairs. He throws on a 1970’s toga left over from rambunctious college days. I don my Grecian goddess white tunic and flashing orange pumpkin earrings. We are ready to do this!
We head next door to our first victims. I heft the forty-five pound luau baby up to the doorbell and press it with the dog’s paw. Little Stacie, Jeffrey, and Jack run to the door, shouting, “Miss Penny! Miss Penny!” Miss Penny gets a chew stick and a squeaky bunny. On to the next house.
The night continues. I’m in a magical, grandmotherly haze. After ten houses, the toga man, the goddess, and luau baby arrive home to check out the loot.
What a haul! Miss Penny has gotten three chew bones, a squeaky bunny, a furry Kermit the Frog, pink dog biscuits, a green tennis ball, a rope pull-toy, a pink flowered dog collar, a Giants dog scarf, and a banana. I dump the contents on the floor and say to Penny Lane, using my best school-teacher voice, “Now, you can pick ONE treat tonight.”
Penny looks at me coyly with her almond-shaped black eyes. She waits two seconds and lunges at the entire pile, gobbling everything in sight—both edible and furry. In ten minutes, she gets a glazed look in her eyes and deposits recycled treats onto my kitchen floor.
I think I’ve gotten my grandmother fix now.
Entry Filed under: Grins and Giggles
