The Halloween Dog

There was absolutely nothing to do in the Valley on Halloween since the Church did not recognize Halloween as a night for the kids to have a little bit of fun. So we had to amuse ourselves.

Some kids stole door mats or pulled other peoples mailboxes out of the ground, but that was not a good thing because it was a Federal Offense.

My only brother was just full of mean things to do and not get caught. Since I was three years younger than he, I thought he was nothing short of brilliant. I followed him everywhere.

If we were supposed to do the dishes, we ran into the cornfield and hid inside a corn shock, never minding the field mice, until it was time to bathe and get to bed. By this time our Mom had already done the dishes and of course, Mom was worried about her "little darlings". God Bless her heart, by this time her concern for her little darlings far outweighed her aggravation and it was also dark out. Then we knew it was what you called "safe".

But on this particular night our Dad had placed a sheet over his head and came looking for us. He was completely unaware that we had a large bag of ammo. We had taken maybe twelve or so small hardened gourds with us from our garden and we threw them at the ghost. We laughed about that for weeks, just brother and me, certainly not Dad. Ready, aim, fire and he was down and didn't know who the enemy was. And we were not about to admit to anything, besides our Mom would take our side. Of this, we were sure.

Now, back to the Halloween night. Some poor stray dog had been hit on the road and killed. I stumbled over it in the dark and screamed bloody murder. Brother kept telling me to shut up before the entire neighborhood heard.

I could tell that Allen had his thinking cap on. So we carried the dead dog to a neighbor's house and placed it on their front porch right in front of the door and ran like crazy to get home.

About an hour or so later, Dad came in and asked where the dead dog came from on our front porch. No one said anything, so Dad took him to our next door neighbor and placed it on their front porch.

This must have gone on all night. By the next morning the poor dog was back on our porch. To be dead, that poor dog traveled more miles dead than he could ever have traveled when he was alive. So our Mom took pity on him and made us dig him a grave the next day and give the poor animal a rest. She even made us wrap him in a warm blanket and say a prayer over his grave. That was our punishment. After all, Mom said that he must be really tired from all of his travels on that Halloween night.

What memories!!

'til later, Patsy