What a disappointment. There is no snow falling, the wind is calm, and it's only chilly, not bone-chillingly cold. I can't come up with a good reason that through the entire night, our doorbell only rang three times. Maybe we could have decorated more than we did, but I thought having a jack-o-lantern out and porch light on was still the universal symbol for "Get Candy Here." We bought three bags of the stuff at King Soopers last night, and in three groups, we had a total of about eight trick-or-treaters. I have average-sized girl hands, and I gave out what I thought were handfuls to the first two on my turn at the door. The next group was Mr S-P's turn, and I doubt he was any more stingy than I was. When the last three boys came by, I said to him, "Give them a lot." I heard him put a couple fistfuls of candy in each kid's bag. Yet here I am, getting over my aversion to Reese's peanut butter cups, and finding out that a certain kitten is absolutely sure he would like chocolate too. I thought he just wanted the crinkly paper, but no, I had to fight him off of a fun-sized Crunch bar. He had his claws deep into my fingers while he tasted the chocolate and decided it was his favorite. Yeah, I guess that will mean I eat less of it if I have to avoid letting him near it, since he spends most of his time on my lap.
Assimilation took a step backwards today. The girls must have had a meeting wherein they decided there would be no tolerance for kittens at Smith Park. Everyone hissed and swatted at him today, but he tried bravely not to look dejected. He purred proudly and kept his tiny head high. Alfred was less antagonistic, coming very close to playing with him several times, and watching him with interest, like Harvey was a fully automated, big white mousey toy. We discovered Harvey really does not like to be alone, for any length of time. If he gets shut in the dressing room to have kitten chow by himself, he cries the moment he is finished. If I'm in one room and Mr S-P goes into the garage or leaves on an errand, the most piteous, squeaky wails come from beside the door just closed. I guess that is what comes from being raised for two months in a tiny apartment with your five brothers and sisters, mom, nana dog, human foster, and two old lady cats who really Do Not Want You Around. He doesn't know how to be on his own. That might be why his sister River has taken to Barley so quickly.
I can't decide whether to stay up late tonight, now that the porch light is off, and watch my traditional viewing of the original Halloween I and II, which have been parked on the DVR since last year. I might watch one of them, and hope that I'm enough of a grownup not to have bad dreams, particularly of the seriously creepy clown decoration that one of our neighbors attached to the big tree in his yard. Isn't that how Halloween starts, with Michael Myers dressed up as a clown....?
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