Luna’s Guide to Halloween: Doorbells, Costumes & Candy She Thinks Is Hers
Apparently, nobody consulted Luna when Halloween was invented.
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Halloween is coming.
I know this because the stores have been telling me since sometime around July.
Luna knows it because strange things have started happening around her house.
There are pumpkins where perfectly respectable flowerpots used to be.
Witches have appeared on the porch.
Skeletons are hanging around like they pay the mortgage.
And apparently, on one particular night, complete strangers are going to walk up to OUR front door and ring OUR doorbell.
Repeatedly.
Oh, hell no.
So before Halloween gets here, I thought we should let Luna explain the rules.
Because Luna has rules.
Lots of them.
And apparently BigDog and I have just been living here under them.
Rule #1: The Doorbell Is an Emergency
According to Luna, there are no innocent doorbells.
Amazon delivery?
THREAT.
Neighbor?
THREAT.
Someone accidentally rang ours instead of the house next door?
THREAT.
A leaf blew past the front window at the same time the doorbell rang?
WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE.
I can tell Luna that everything is fine.
I can say, “Luna, it’s okay.”
I can show her the package.
Doesn’t matter.
She’s already notified the entire neighborhood.
So Halloween—when children are apparently encouraged to approach the house every 45 seconds—is basically Luna’s Super Bowl.
LUNA’S HALLOWEEN SECURITY POLICY
Doorbell rings: Bark.
Door opens: Bark louder.
Child dressed like Spider-Man: Highly suspicious.
Second Spider-Man: Clearly organized crime.
Mom says, “Luna, stop”: Ignore management.
Rule #2: Costumes Require Investigation
I have a feeling Luna would like Halloween costumes just fine if humans didn’t insist on wearing them.
A witch standing on the porch?
Fine.
A pumpkin?
Fine.
Skeleton?
Whatever.
But put a six-year-old inside a dinosaur costume and suddenly we have questions.
Who are you?
Why are you shaped like that?
Why is your head so big?
AND WHY ARE YOU WALKING TOWARD MY HOUSE?
Honestly, from Luna’s perspective, I can see the problem.
The other 364 days of the year we tell her not to bark at people.
Then Halloween arrives and we invite tiny monsters, superheroes, ghosts and inflatable dinosaurs to knock on the door.
Mixed messages, people.
Mixed messages.
Rule #3: Luna Is Not Wearing a Costume Unless Luna Approves the Costume
Now, I love a cute dog costume.
You already know where this is going.
I see a little witch hat and immediately think:
LUNA.
I see bat wings:
LUNA.
A tiny pumpkin costume?
LUNA NEEDS THAT.
Luna has a slightly different evaluation system.
Can I walk in it?
Can I sit in it?
Can I still reach my snacks?
Are you going to spend 20 minutes taking pictures of me?
And most importantly:
How quickly can I get this thing off?
So I’ve learned there is a difference between a costume that looks adorable online and one your dog will actually tolerate.
If she spends Halloween giving me the look that says, I’m calling Grandma, we’ve gone too far.
A festive bandana may be all the Halloween fashion this girl needs.
And frankly, she can pull it off.
SHOP LUNA’S HALLOWEEN PICKS
SHOP LUNA’S HALLOWEEN FAVORITES
Cute enough for pictures. Comfortable enough that Luna doesn’t file a complaint with management.
Because apparently the decorations aren’t hers, which seems unfair.
Her compensation package for surviving Halloween.
Rule #4: All Bags Contain Something for Luna
This is not specifically a Halloween rule.
This is a Luna rule.
Groceries come through the door?
For Luna.
Amazon package?
Probably Luna’s.
Shopping bag?
Definitely check it.
So imagine Halloween candy.
A giant bowl.
Individually wrapped little packages.
People reaching into it all night.
This has every characteristic of something Luna believes should involve her.
Except it doesn’t.
And she’s going to be personally offended.
A Very Important Note About the Candy
This is one place where Mom overrules Luna.
The Halloween candy is NOT hers.
Chocolate and some common candy ingredients can be dangerous for dogs, so our candy bowl stays where Luna can’t help herself.
Because let’s be clear:
Luna does not understand moderation.
Luna understands opportunity.
If something hits the floor, I have approximately 0.7 seconds to determine what it is before the cleanup crew arrives.
So Halloween night means we’re paying extra attention to wrappers, dropped candy and anything else that could become an unauthorized Luna snack.
She can have her own dog treats.
She will survive this injustice.
Probably.
LUNA WOULD LIKE TO FILE A FORMAL COMPLAINT
Children receive candy for ringing the doorbell.
Luna receives NO candy for protecting the house from the children ringing the doorbell.
She would like someone to explain how this is fair.
Rule #5: Anything at Luna Height Belongs to Luna
Decorating with a small dog gives you an entirely different perspective.
You start looking at everything from about twelve inches off the ground.
Dangling decorations?
Interesting.
Fake cobwebs?
Suspicious.
Little pumpkins?
Potential toys.
Anything that moves when the wind blows?
Must investigate immediately.
And don’t even get me started on cords.
So when I’m decorating the porch or inside the house, I have to think about what Luna can reach—not just what looks cute.
The goal is spooky, not an emergency trip to the vet.
Rule #6: The Patio Is Still Luna’s
This may be the most important rule of all.
You can add pumpkins.
You can add witches.
You can put out lanterns.
You can change the pillows.
You can decorate the whole damn thing.
But make no mistake:
That patio belongs to Luna.
She’s the Patio Supervisor.
Nothing happens out there without inspection.
I move something?
Inspection.
New decoration?
Inspection.
I sit down?
Luna sits down.
I get up?
Apparently the meeting has ended.
Halloween does not change the organizational chart.
So How Are We Actually Handling Halloween Night?
I’ve learned that sometimes the easiest thing is not expecting your dog to participate in every human activity.
Luna doesn’t need to greet every trick-or-treater.
She doesn’t need to inspect every costume.
And she definitely doesn’t need to be stationed at the front door like nightclub security.
If the doorbell becomes too much, she can hang out somewhere comfortable away from the commotion with her bed, a toy and something appropriate to chew on.
Honestly?
She’ll probably still hear everything.
Those ears could pick up a potato-chip bag opening three houses away.
But at least she doesn’t have to be right in the middle of the chaos.
Luna’s Official Halloween Schedule
5:00 p.m.
Inspect porch.
5:07 p.m.
Reinspect porch in case something changed.
5:30 p.m.
Demand dinner early due to anticipated security workload.
6:02 p.m.
First doorbell.
6:02:01 p.m.
LOSE MIND.
6:03 p.m.
Recover.
6:04 p.m.
Second doorbell.
6:04:01 p.m.
LOSE MIND AGAIN.
6:30 p.m.
Begin questioning management’s decisions.
7:00 p.m.
Attempt candy-bowl inspection.
7:01 p.m.
Inspection denied.
7:02 p.m.
File grievance.
8:00 p.m.
Fall asleep like she hasn’t caused a scene all night.
8:15 p.m.
Hear something nobody else heard.
Start over.
Halloween Looks Different When You’re Twelve Inches Tall
I joke about Luna running this house because, well…
She kind of does.
But she’s also one of the things that makes this stage of life so much fun.
BigDog and I can decorate the porch.
I can put out my witches and pumpkins.
We can sit outside now that Arizona is finally beginning to remember that human beings aren’t supposed to melt.
And somewhere in the middle of all of it will be this little black dog, supervising everything.
That’s home.
Not the decorations.
Not the perfect porch.
Not whether Halloween looks Pinterest-worthy.
It’s the little life happening in the middle of all of it.
And right now, ours includes a tiny Patio Supervisor who believes she’s responsible for household security, package inspection and snack quality control.
Halloween is coming, Luna.
Get ready, girl.
You’ve got one night to protect us from approximately 47 princesses, 22 superheroes, nine witches, three inflatable dinosaurs and at least one kid who’s way too old to be trick-or-treating but we’re giving him candy anyway.
You’ve got this.
And no.
The Reese’s are still not yours.
P.S. Luna would like it noted that she strongly disagrees with the final sentence.
