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Dog deserves respect in Halloween costume
(by Christine Thome - October 29, 2008)
BEYOND MY CONTROL, BY CHRISTINE THOME
Dog deserves respect in Halloween costume
Growing up on Lake Michigan, it never really mattered what I was for Halloween, because, without a doubt, snow would have fallen well before Oct. 31, and my mother would force me to wear a snow parka, hat, gloves and boots.
One year, I was a princess in a parka. Another year, I was a ballerina in a parka. The next year, I was a cheerleader in a parka. You get the idea.
Going house to house, the neighbors would recognize me by my parka and ask, "What are you this year, Chrissy?" because there was absolutely no telling what costume any child was wearing under his or her parka.
"Mmmphh, mmmumph, mphmmph," I would answer through the scarf wrapped tightly around my mouth.
"Oh, that's nice honey. Here's some candy. Stay warm."
But between the time I trick-or-treated and now, global warming kicked in, and we can now get through October with nice temperatures and little or no snow. This makes choosing a costume a little more important.
However, now that my children are getting older, they are more concerned with what the dog will be for Halloween than what they will be.
I have to admit, when we decided to add a small dog to our family four years ago, I had dreams of dressing her in sweaters, rhinestones and bows. I was going to name her Tallulah and call her Lu. However, once we arrived at the breeder's home, I fell in love with a little boy dog. Instead of Tallulah, I named him Louie and call him Lou. Just as I would never dress my son in little girls' clothing (except for that pink tutu many years ago), I cannot, in good conscience, dress my boy dog in prissy clothing.
However, my three daughters have decided that dressing up a dog for Halloween is not only acceptable but mandatory. Since I refuse to buy the dog a costume, they pool their babysitting money every year at this time and shop the large pet stores.
One year, Louie was a pimp, complete with a purple velvet jacket and hat with zebra trim. Last year, he was a skeleton. This year, my daughters bought him a lobster costume and renamed him Louie the Lobster. The costume consists of a large stuffed lobster that straps onto his middle section and an elastic strap under the lobster's head to pull around Louie's chin to keep the costume on.
Louie actually liked his pimp costume (what guy wouldn't?), and he tolerated the skeleton costume. But he absolutely hates his lobster costume. When the girls first put it on him, he refused to move. He just lowered his head and stared at the ground. If a dog can show humiliation, Louie had it written all over him.
"Girls, you can't make him wear that," I said. "Look at the poor guy -- he's miserable!"
"I think it's the weight of the lobster head that he doesn't like," my oldest daughter said. "Let's see what we can do, girls."
About an hour later, Louie emerged from one of the girls' bedrooms with the body of the lobster costume wrapped around his middle and the purple pimp hat on his head. His tail was wagging, and he was obviously happy with his new look.
"What is he supposed to be?" I asked, very confused by the combination.
"He's a Gangsta Lobsta!" the girls shouted.
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