the hundred-acre halloween
"A day spent with you is my favorite day. So today is my new favorite day." - Winnie the Pooh
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It was, as it happens, a rather blustery day. The winds whispered their discontent then gusted their fury, alternating moods like an off-balance pendulum. Rain bucketed down from morning 'til night, but we paid it no mind. We had far more important things to occupy our afternoon than lamenting a spot of damp. (Admittedly, a torrentially titanic spot of damp, but we were indoors, and it was out. So we passed the hours with a bear most stout.)
Against the better judgment of myself, of Dennie, of Dennie's doctor, and even of one downhearted donkey, the aforementioned dimpled one returned to work on Friday after a number of sick days. One can only presume that, being Halloween, the objective was to encounter as many ill-mannered clients as possible and effectively scare the virus away. It didn't work, but as cures go, three points for originality. At least our beloved patient didn't resort to leeches or spreading sliced onions around the house to "absorb" what ailed her, both common--if futile--attempted remedies of days gone by. (Should you ever find yourself inclined to try one, be forewarned: the latter stinks; the former just sucks.)
Not wishing to cram Maisie's holiday into a post-dinner hour, we saved our wee Halloween for the following day. It would be, after all, the start of our November vacation, and nothing kicks off a vacation quite like the conjuration of a sweet celebration. Adorable new pumpkin bandana stylishly secured around Maisie's neck, we spread a black-and-white checkered picnic blanket over the floor. It took approximately two-and-a-half seconds for our grinning girl to settle upon it. She loves a good blanket. It's almost as if the darling pup's Mommy knew this would lure her to the area in front our living room pumpkin patch. (Ya know, except for the "almost" part.)
Trick-or-treaters never had it so good. No one-or-two-treat limit here.
And there were other non-spooky surprises in store as well.
While we didn't give her enough to risk upsetting her belly, low-cal training treats flowed freely as we got the party started, Maisie occasionally poking her nose at the bag again as if to say, "Trick or treat, Mom. Trick or treat." Then came the presents. First a squeaky and crinkly Pooh--of the tubby little cubby variety--followed by an Eeyore who was apparently grateful just to be noticed. I can only imagine the rapture he felt at being the most chewed upon of the two, and when I say, "I can only imagine," it is primarily because the clever blue donkey is not the most outwardly expressive resident of the Hundred-Acre Wood.
Still, I sense he was secretly thrilled by the development.
Maisie played with one, switching focus as soon as Mommy grabbed the other. She tugged at them, shook them, and--much to our surprise--leapt high into the air to catch a flying toy in an athletic display that would have rivaled that of a much younger pup. Dennie at our sides, me planted on the floor with our baby, the wisdom of Pooh carried us through the afternoon. "Laugh 'til your tummy hurts." And that is precisely what we did. Eventually our sweet senior Señorita shepherd sprawled over that checkered blanket for a well-earned siesta, but there was one treat left to round out her Halloween. Late in the evening, bathed in the orange glow of festive lights, our precious pumpkin wiggled her delight in anticipation of the trick-or-treating equivalent of full-size candy bars. Big brown eyes sparkled with a familiar sentiment. "You're just in time for a little smackerel of something," they said, as I gently placed the creamy frozen delicacy between our pampered pup's waiting paws. Maisie filled her rumbly tumbly with glee, then, under Eeyore's watchful eye, she drifted off with a well-pleased sigh.
Happy new favorite day, Miss Maisie Moon. For you I wish delish ice cream and many a resplendent dream of our Hundred-Acre...Halloween.
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