October 16, 2004:
The only real stress we encounter during the Halloween season? Picking a costume. Pretty much everyone I've talked to lately has been going through serious debate over whether to be Dracula or Paris Hilton, and I myself don't have a clue what to be. We hit up a nearby costume warehouse yesterday, overpriced as all Hell, and the best I could come up with was a Michael Myers mask mixed with a generic prison inmate jumpsuit. I knew it was a prison inmate jumpsuit since it had the words "PRISON INMATE" ironed onto the back. The total cost of said costume was in the realm of 90 bucks, so I've instead decided to just buy a bucket of green paint, dip my body in it and tell everyone I'm the Green Giant's son who always had to shill frozen peas. Still, if you think finding a costume for yourself is tough, try nailing the perfect ensemble for your dog or cat.
Yup, people really dress up their pets for Halloween. Generally, these are the same kind of people who send you Christmas cards with photos of their chocolate labradors wearing tightly knit red sweaters and plastic reindeer horns. You know, the kind of people secret underground societies constantly map out the demises of. It may seem cruel and unusual to force a costume on a pooch, but really, the people who do such things are usually the ones who treat their pets the best -- sometimes to the point of carting 'em around in baby strollers through department stores. I doubt there's ever been a pet who actually enjoyed wearing any type of clothing or accessory, but they've not yet mastered the vocal capacities necessary to tell us to "stop, please stop."
We don't own a dog around these parts, but we've got enough cats to reshoot the Batman Returns scene where 400 of them eat Michelle Pfeiffer. I'd found a few "head ornaments," where a Velcro seal gives you the chance to adorn a small dog or large cat with fluffy cloth devil horns, but they only remain on for about ten seconds before the animal starts karate chopping itself in the face to remove the offense. Yesterday, I finally found the perfect costume to make our cats incredibly pissed off.
The Vampire Doggie Dress-Up Kit costs ten bucks, and promises to make your pup's primary brain function figuring out a way to commit suicide. Luckily for me, a note on the package insisted that the costume would fit cats just as well -- a bit of a lie, but I couldn't resist. I get the urge to annoy our cats pretty often, but my aim is too hit-and-miss to make due with just throwing things at them. Now, whenever I'm feeling that sadistic urge rising, all I have to do is bust out the dwarf Dracula cape and tie the knot extra tight.
Brutal, huh? Well, as criminally annoying as it is for a dog or cat to try licking its ass while wearing this, it's not exactly easy on their owners -- the costumes are difficult to put on even if you've got the one cat or dog in the world who'd willingly sit still and let you do commit such a heinous act. In every other case, it's like trying to give a haircut to a six-year-old on a tilt-a-whirl, only without the prized notion that you're the only person in the world to ever do something like that.
Today's Victim: "Lenox," our fattest but cutest cat, and likely the most vocal feline on the planet. This is a cat who can be willed into meowing simply by looking at him with one eye closed. Of the four cats we have, others are more docile and helpless and thus better candidates to slap a cape on, but I couldn't get past the idea that Lenox's regal bright fur would contrast so terribly with a Dracula costume. Thus, it had to be him. Luring him into position by shaking a can of Pounce cat treats, Lenox soon found himself held tight by the scruff of the neck while various black strings were tied around his neck. Thank God he's not a scratcher.
It took Lenox some time to get used to the idea, but more sincerely, our pride and joy hated every second of this. It didn't get to the point of outright hisses, but Lenox's meows soon transformed into what I will swear on a stack of bibles were clear and audible "nooooos." The costume consists of a cheap vinyl cape and an affixed red collar complete with plastic vampire medallion, and these items are of course completely synonymous with "cat" and have every right to be merged with their birthright brothers. These photos were taken yesterday, and ever since, Lenox has remained in sprinting distance of the sanctity that is under our bed. Couldn't even lure him away with open cans of tuna, which would formerly endow the cat with the ability to leap over a car and go from 0 to 75 in three seconds flat. Maybe he's just living the gimmick and avoiding sunlight. I bet he'll spit at us next time we add garlic to a slab of chicken.
After wildly contorting himself in a futile attempt to escape, Lenox found himself more tied up in the costume strings than ever. Ultimately, he gave up and plopped into dead-cat position, consigning himself to speeding up the torture by being as cooperative as possible. He couldn't really tell us that this was what he was thinking, but it was all written in his eyes. That's also how I know when he's the one who pissed on the rug so I can avoid beating up the other cats for no justifiable reason.
Taking pictures of Lenox in the getup was another issue entirely. Not so much fearful of camera flashes as annoyed by them, Lenox continually pointed his head to the floor, refusing to say cheese. When I went to upload the pictures, I was a little shocked to see that I'd taken well over 70. The only arguably usable ones are displayed in this article. In every other picture, Lenox is either staring at the floor or making a face that painted me too much like someone who should be imprisoned for animal cruelty. When he started getting particular pissy, we backed off a bit to let the cat collect itself. Anyone would be a bit off if you threw a cape on 'em and started snapping pictures. Lenox just needed a little breathing room.
Eventually, Lenox decided to experience what it'd be like to try walking in a Dracula costume, a feat met with much frustration and many more "noooos" on the part of a cat who'd soon be searching for a good lawyer. He looked ridiculous. I could see the costume working if we were gunning to make him look like a choir singer or college gradjit, but Dracula? Nope.
When all else failed, Lenox simply pleaded with us to remove the costume as best as he could with his patented "sad meow." He already tried clawing the thing off; it didn't work. He even attempted to eat the entire cape and be done with the horrible process that way, but that just made him puke and be the first cat to successfully confirm that cats cannot eat vinyl Dracula capes. When I saw him telling our other cats the news later, they looked shocked. The conversation went something like:
Then they all had dinner together. We fed them salmon-flavored kibble shaped like chicken drumsticks. They never understood the irony.
The Vampire Doggie Dress-Up Kit probably works on doggies a bit better than cats, but I can't imagine it being a perfect fit for any creature in the animal kingdom. Maybe the emu, but who can get close enough? Pet costumes on the whole are almost never a good idea, unless you're dressing up a dog as a mob hitman, cuz that's kinda cool.
Still, there's still an even worse crime in the realm of Halloween costumes -- parents who shove uncomfortable, foreign disguises on their babies. I come from a big family, and all of my siblings have kids. I've seen children between ages 0-3 forcibly dressed up as everything from ladybugs to lobsters, utilizing hand-sewn full-body suits, and that's just the tip of the don't-do-that iceberg. At least dogs and cats don't have to worry about growing up maladjusted. Dress a two-year-old boy up like the Statue of Liberty and parade him around your bridge club's weekly shindig, and you're more or less asking to spend the retirement fund on their therapy bills. Oh, for those wondering: Lenox is okay. He's over it. Gets a little queasy when we walk past him holding clothes or towels, but I'm pretty sure he always did that.
Still, there's still an even worse crime in the realm of Halloween costumes -- parents who shove uncomfortable, foreign disguises on their babies. I come from a big family, and all of my siblings have kids. I've seen children between ages 0-3 forcibly dressed up as everything from ladybugs to lobsters, utilizing hand-sewn full-body suits, and that's just the tip of the don't-do-that iceberg. At least dogs and cats don't have to worry about growing up maladjusted. Dress a two-year-old boy up like the Statue of Liberty and parade him around your bridge club's weekly shindig, and you're more or less asking to spend the retirement fund on their therapy bills. Oh, for those wondering: Lenox is okay. He's over it. Gets a little queasy when we walk past him holding clothes or towels, but I'm pretty sure he always did that.
