We had a whopping 49 trick-or-treaters last night. Abe was a little out-of-sorts, but I figured he felt uncomfortable about all those strangers trying to break into his house. Geez, it was bad enough that they trampled all over his grass. Abe sat at the window thinking “What am I doing wrong? I thought I marked every corner of this yard as my own. Didn’t I just pee there this morning?”
Abe spent much of the evening traipsing under my feet and barking at me. I offered several times to let him play in the back yard, but he wasn’t interested. He wasn’t hungry. Or thirsty. Or looking for a toy. Finally, I became desperate and started pleading with him.
“Abe, what is the matter? What do you need? Are you jealous of all the kids out there? Do you want to go trick-or-treating?” His ears sprang up. Of course! I had forgotten that Abe knows the word “treat.” Every time he hears it he expects a dog biscuit, and all evening he had heard children come to our door and shout “Treat! Treat! Treat!” and get handed a treat in response.
So I now know that what Abe was barking at me was, “Treat! Treat! Treat! Damn it, woman! What do I have to do to get one of those peanut butter cups?”