I’ve been wondering all week how Sherman would handle the trick or treaters tonight. He’s the type of dog that barks three or five times when someone knocks at the door, but he almost immediately gets over himself and wants to play with the delivery guy, Girl Scout, or religious solicitor at my door. I have a feeling he would respond appropriately if someone tried to harm me, but he generally sees folks at the door as part of his entertainment committee, often dragging his rawhide or giant purple dinosaur to the door to show it off.
I’ve been waiting tonight to see what Sherm does, but no one has come to my door. I realize it’s not quite seven p.m., but all evening long the kids have been running eagerly to my neighbours’ places and avoiding mine. My feelings are hurt.
The problem may be that the houses on either side of mine are decked out in fake cobwebs, flashing lights, and multiple jack-o-lanterns. Despite the yellow “caution” police-style ribbons, lots of kiddies are stopping by the house to the east. On my west flank, the family has spent the last two weekends setting up an elaborate graveyard display, strings of pumpkin lights, and some sort of giant grim reaper hovering over the front porch. After work tonight, they scattered random body parts, including arms and legs with “bloody” stumps, and plugged in a fog machine.
Nothing says, “Please come here, kiddies,” like fake dismembered people, you know.
A jack-o-lantern is planted in front of the dollhouse, carved with the image of a Halloween kitty. After the first few kids ignored my house, I swapped out my wee tealight for a giant jar candle. It’s one of my good ones, the winter berry scent, and it throws enough light to read the phonebook by. I hopped up a few minutes ago and moved the whole pumpkin off the porch and partway down the sidewalk, hoping it would be easier to see from the boulevard. Still, nothing. My porch lights are one, inside and out, and I’m clearly visible sitting on my couch with a floofy blue flower in my hair. By no stretch does my house look scary or like the home of someone who wants to harm children: I am simply far too broke to decorate my home extravagantly, or really at all, save the pumpkin.
Where are the kidlets? I feel a little pathetic blogging that no one is coming to my house, where I have a big dish of candy ready to hand out.
Wait! There’s someone on my front steps. Hang on.
It was an itty bitty Spiderman! He even had excellent manners! Halloween is saved, thanks to the smallest Spidey I’ve ever seen.
As for Sherman, he boofed once and went to his bed. Apparently, he doesn’t get as excited about superheroes as he does about the people trying to bring us religion. I think I need to have a chat with that dog.
copyright 2011: http://bluespeckledpup.com