The house around the corner from mine decorates for Halloween at the end of September and people come from miles around to see the moving and speaking figures that populate the porch and hang around on the rooftop. In the corner of the porch, a Frankenstein-like creature plays an organ (and the haunting music from that organ plays 24/7), while a witch welcomes visitors and tells them (every fifteen minutes or so) about what she’s stirring in her pot (‘double double toil and trouble’). On the roof, a supersized black cat swings its head from right to left, lit from within in some horrid way, and above the doorway a gigantic spider waves its arms, threatening to spin its web over any intruders. Pumpkins litter the lawn, cutout witches guard each corner, and a blow-up evil tree spooks little kids who will probably never enter the woods again.
Every time Izzy and I pass by the house, he freezes in his tracks and his eyes light with the orange flickerings from the decorations themselves. He’s baffled by the moving cat and spider on the roof, tilts his head when the witch intones her spell, and the sound of the organ alerts him even when we’re blocks away. He pees on the gravestones at the edge of the walkway and doesn’t even bother sniffing the wood cutout witch. If we’re walking by early in the morning when everything else is quiet, he mutters a little in the back of his throat or does a little prance and whine routine. He knows this isn’t “normal” but he has no clue what Halloween is (nor does he care, other than the sound and lights bug him).
Wait until the kids start ringing our doorbell in their costumes. Now that is cause for a great deal of barking!