On the subject of Halloween: What’s not to love? A chill in the air, hordes of happy kids eager to show off their costumes, and fun decorations everywhere. It’s all so fun. The decorations can be humorous or downright brilliant. We’ve all seen the house across from Elk Meadow with the marauding skeletons scaling the house like bloodthirsty pirates taking over a ship. And who could resist a visit to JP Total’s Pumpkin Patch or the downtown Halloween Walk? All this fun culminates on Halloween night usually under a jaw-droppingly huge golden harvest moon.

Our neighborhood coordinates a clever method of marking your house to be included in the route of trick-or-treaters, so they’re sure to come by. I can’t wait to see all the kids excited to show off their costumes. I’m thinking I’ll set out a table, bundle up and sit at the bottom of the driveway with my giant bowl of candy and perhaps a thermos that may or may not be filled with spiked cider. After all, Halloween does fall on a Saturday this year.

Aside from being supremely organized, ours is a very dog-friendly neighborhood, which begs the question, what about the dogs? Oh sure, I could bring Daisy along to wait for the flurry of trick-or-treaters at the roadside, but that’s hardly a recipe for a happy dog. Likely, she’d find all the costumes upsetting and not know what to do with the unpredictability of the revelers. Seems a very risky exercise indeed. She won’t be participating in that way.

“Hi, small human. You smell sticky. Can I lick your face?”

What if, instead, all the dogs in the neighborhood got together and decided it would be fun to pull an elaborate Halloween trick? This is the kind of thing my mind works out in the wee hours of the morning. I blame too many “Scooby-Doo” cartoons with the kids. I picture each of the dogs dressing up as humans and standing ready at the door to give out treats. You know, a switcheroo—a trading places situation. They’d have to be stealth, of course, especially in executing the closet-raiding necessary to find clothing to wear as a costume. Not to mention the difficulty of trying it all on—what with the distinct disadvantage of lacking opposable thumbs. Let’s just ignore the logistical impossibilities and say it could be done. Whether or not they could actually fool anyone is one thing, but there could be other problems as well. For one, they’d likely give themselves away each time the doorbell rang. I mean, seriously, what dog doesn’t go bananas barking at the sound of a doorbell? I suppose they could continue the ruse by playing a recording that says, “Quiet, Fido,” before they open the door. But, then what? Unless they are actually the talking Scooby-Doo, they’d also have to have a recording that squeals at the cuteness of the costumes and encourages all the trick-or-treaters to have fun. You know, all the usual banter said on the stoop a hundred times on Halloween night. It could run in a loop cued to play right after the “Quiet, Fido” part. It might be wise for a human to help draft the verbiage though. Otherwise, it might come out, “Hi, small human. You smell sticky. Can I lick your face?” Not exactly the best way to build a good reputation in the neighborhood. And there’s another problem: If the dogs were in charge of filling the bowl with treats, would it contain Reece’s Pieces and Snickers bars? I think not. I mean, don’t we all aim to give out what we consider to be the good stuff from our own childhoods? Word would spread like wildfire that the neighborhood houses have sketchy-looking people giving out milk bones and liver snaps.

Okay, I concede that this little idea, although comical, wouldn’t work in practice, but it’s funny to think about. How about if you want your dog to participate in Halloween, you put it in a costume? I’ve seen some pretty funny ones out there. Some are extremely cute. I especially like the Dachshunds dressed as hot dogs. Or pugs disguised as E.T. Golden Retrievers make convincing lions when fitted with a mane that matches their fur. And then there are the inventive costumes that make the dog look like a big spider, an alarming sight coming at you as the legs bounce and jiggle in a lifelike way. A quick glance online reveals every costume imaginable from a Smurf to a bee to Superdog—even Stitch from “Lilo and Stitch.” I even saw a Chucky costume with creepy stuffed arms holding a rubber knife.

Dog costumes are always a fan favorite, but do the dogs like it? Do they prance around like they often do when they have a new toy or chewy? Do they go to everyone in their vicinity strutting and wagging their tail? The ones modeling the costumes don’t appear traumatized, but I fear it is entirely possible that, models aside, dogs in costume feel and act as if they’re being punished. At least any dog I’ve ever had would react that way. I’d no sooner get a cape or tutu on my dog before she’d have it on the ground in shreds. Try putting booties on a dog that doesn’t welcome it, and you’ll get the gist.

If, however, you are lucky enough to have a dog that loves wearing a costume, go for it. It’ll make everyone around them ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ and squeal with delight at the mere sight of them. Halloween is a day of pretending to be something or someone else, reveling in the party atmosphere, and enjoying ourselves. We humans find it very entertaining to see Halloween decorations of all kinds, costumes (both human and canine), and simply love handing out treats by the bucketful. I, for one, love it all. Bring on the festivities. Bring on Halloween.