Even though he’s six years old, this was really the Fluffy Dog’s first Halloween. Usually, I keep him and the Brindle Dog (and the Old Dog, when she was still alive) locked away in a bedroom so they won’t get freaked out by all the commotion. But this year, the Fluffy Dog and I got invited to spend Halloween with J and her new rescue dog, Little One (who is really little! Seven and a half pounds to the Fluffster’s eighty!).
So Mr. Fluff and I took ourselves over to Wolseley to hand out candy. Little One was in an adorable Batgirl costume, and J had picked up a devil costume for the Fluffy Dog. I’ve never put outfits on him before so I was curious how he’d handle it, but he didn’t even notice it, really. He so easygoing I sometimes wonder if he’s got some Pams stashed away (lorazepam, clonazepam, diazepam… As my dad said at my gramma’s funeral, Pam is our friend!). The only thing is that after a while, the Fluffster got kind of overheated, so I switched him to the Fairy Princess costume, which was basically a child’s tutu J had lying around for her old dog.
Actually, now that I think of it, the Fluffy Dog has had a previous dress-up experience. When he was just a little pupster, The Ex and I had taken him to a puppy socialisation class at some place way south on St. Anne’s Road. One of the things they wanted us to do was get our pups used to being handled by others. At one point, we all traded pups, and there was a competition to grab baby clothes out of a box in the middle of the room and dress the strange puppy in your arms as quickly as possible. I didn’t like it, but went along—until the first pup cried out in pain from being forced into a shirt too quickly by some overly competitive person. It wasn’t my puppy who squeaked, but I still marched across the room and retrieved the baby Fluff from the stranger who was dressing him and I refused to play the Pass-the-Puppy games anymore. So dressing the Fluffster was traumatic for me, but apparently not for him!
Both dogs were so incredibly calm and stable and well-behaved throughout the parade of zombies and hulks and elves and Elsas and giraffes and minions and skeletons and spiderpersons. And J got some hilarious video footage (do we still call it footage now that it’s digital?) of her Little One playing with the ten-times-her-size Fluffy Dog. By the end of the evening, after a hundred kids, the dogs didn’t even bother to go the the door anymore. “Trick or Treat!” is apparently now the cue to lift one’s head from the ground, sigh mightily (“more children???”), and set one’s head right back down.
The only sad thing was that the Brindle Dog couldn’t be there with us. But since she’d probably have made a snack of Little One, it’s just as well. I do love wildly her despite all her issues, but I have to admit it’s also really fabulous to have an easygoing, social dog like the Fluffmeister.
And as an extra special bonus: Not a single kid objected when I explained the Fluffy’s Dog’s tutu costume: “He’s a fairy princess!” Really, not a single kid did any gender policing around how boys can’t be princesses. It was heartwarming. Or maybe that’s the chocolate warming my heart!