Aaah! It’s Halloween, the most squeaktacular – let’s make that spooktacular – day of the year. Tonight all the kiddies will come a-knockin’ at your door, entreating you for sweets, and hopefully not leaving you any of those “tricks” they jestingly threaten. (A squeak to the wise, just in case: I’ve heard from some human children that the best treats to get are bubble gum and chocolate while the worst are those nasty brown taffy things in the black and orange wrappers, so if you don’t want a flaming paper bag of rat droppings left on your front porch, spring for the Bubble Yum.)
Everyone also dresses in the most fanciful costumes, some whimsical, like princess fairies; some heroic, like Captain America; and some terrifying, like flesh-eating zombies. I’m sure you can guess my favorite costume: Ratman. And the worst, the one that makes my fur stand on end: cats. It seems like every year at least three or four little girls dress up in what they assume are the cutest kitty-cat costumes ever and come trick-or-treating at my human family’s house, sending me scampering for cover. And wishing my whiskers off that the next trick-or-treater will be Ratman.
So as you and yours go running through the neighborhood tonight collecting candy and making mischief, do a favor to all of the rats who reside in human homes: don’t wear that cat costume!
Keepin’ it squeak,