Going to the Doggy Darkside

I've never put my dog in a Halloween costume. Never. People who dress their dogs as bumblebees or super heroes or Mr. Darcy, are people who refer to themselves as their dog's mommy or daddy. Please. I did not give birth to my labrador retriever, Seamus, and if I had, I would have contacted the Weekly World News.


It would fit in nicely with stories about a chimp's head being put on a human body and Bigfoot being kept as a love slave.

The closest I came to outfitting him, was when he was a pup, and I tried to tie a little red bandana around his neck, because, I thought his labradorableness needed accessorizing? He went nuts, spinning, jumping, double Lutzing, and I never subjected him to my whims again, which is probably why I have Alpha issues. He wears a leather collar with his rabies tag and Saint Rocco (patron saint of dogs) medal and he is fine with it. As am I. But that was before I had to get toilet paper and toothbrushes.

I was in Target, and there it was, hanging on an aisle end cap, among the polyester brides, wiener dog buns and puggalicious sunflowers -- a black and white padded football jersey, number 00, Wide Retriever on the back in big white letters.

I couldn't.

I shouldn't.

But... come on... Wide Retriever! It was practically sitting up and begging. We could ration the T.P. and maybe those flattened toothbrushes had another week left in them. So, I bit.

Remember that fairy tale about the guy who was supposed to sell the cow so the starving family could eat, but instead he traded the cow for a handful of magic beans? That's kind of how I felt after I plunked down what was left in our joint checking account (until payday) on a doggy Halloween costume.

Seamus greeted me at the back door. "Wait till you see what I've got for you!" I said.

Food? Is it food? I hope it's food!

I pulled the outfit out of the bag and let him have a sniff.

"Get it? Wide Retriever!"

He gave me a look. His version of WTF.

"Oh, come on! It'll be fun!"

Fun? Like wearing a cone fun?

I clipped the little nylon thingies that held it on the cardboard form and unfurled it.

"Look, if you don't like it, I swear, I'll take it off and that will be the end of it, okay?"



What's in it for me? I mean, there's gotta be something in it for me.

"I'll give you a piece of left over pizza!"

He cocked his head. Wagged his tail. He was all in.

I don't want to say he looked adorable in it, but he looked adorable in it. And, he let it stay on for several photos that I immediately posted and have received more 'likes' than any postings of my human offspring. Sad? No. The sad part is... Mommy is already thinking of his costume for next year.

testPromoTitleReplace testPromoDekReplace Join HuffPost Today! No thanks.