Beg­ging for Bis­cuits

HU­MOR Our gi­ant dog just couldn’t find the fun in Hal­loween.


sea of cherub-faced princesses, ghosts and gob­lins raised jack-o’-lanterns and shouted “trick or treat!” We sat wait­ing for them out­side. Mar­ley, our komon­dor dog, was be­side us, wag­ging his tail in­ces­santly.

He loved lit­tle peo­ple. De­spite his im­pos­ing size, most of them felt like­wise. Of­ten Mar­ley found him­self sur­rounded by neigh­bor chil­dren, their faces buried in his clumpy dread­locks.

But that night, af­ter the third or fourth Hal­loween salu­ta­tion, Mar­ley grew ag­i­tated. He watched anx­iously, whim­per­ing, as candy clunked into buck­ets and bags.

My hus­band and I didn’t know what to make of it. The whin­ing got

Aworse, and even­tu­ally Mar­ley crammed his huge head into a bag look­ing for treats. We re­placed the candy, of course, and rep­ri­manded him for his out­burst. Mar­ley sim­ply plopped to the ground. “Maybe we should put him in the house,” I sug­gested.

“Let’s give him another chance,” my hus­band an­swered.

“Trick or treat!” a child cried, his feet crunch­ing and crack­ling over the car­pet of red, yel­low, orange and brown leaves.

Mar­ley sat up straight and tall. His eye­brows moved up and down and his enor­mous pink tongue re­mained frozen. Mar­ley’s eyes shifted from us to the child un­til we dropped the candy into the bag. He pawed the sack. He was look­ing for some­thing.

“I know what the prob­lem is,” my hus­band said fi­nally. “Trick or treat.” I didn’t get it, so he re­peated the phrase, with the em­pha­sis on treat. Then it hit me. Mar­ley con­nected the word with doggy bis­cuits. He must have felt it was a cruel prank, hear­ing that word over and over and watch­ing kids run off with his booty.

I went in­side, grabbed some bis­cuits and gave them to Mar­ley. Out­side, skele­tons and pi­rates pa­raded across the yard, yelling the magic phrase.

We couldn’t just train Mar­ley to for­get the word treat.

So ev­ery Oc­to­ber, our for­mer Hal­loween helper spends the night in­side, wait­ing, like Scrooge at Christ­mas, for this un­just hol­i­day to pass.

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