My dog has a condition that makes his trachea collapse when he gets excited. Like… Say… When the mailman comes. Probably to murder us. All dogs know that mailmen are evil and have a freak out but mine does that and then spends fifteen minutes trying to get air back in his lungs without sounding like a Harley Davidson.

Once or twice a day, no biggie. Halloween? Nightmare on Elm Street. (There are a lot of elm trees on my street, but that’s not really what it’s called.)

So I’m opting out.  I feel badly about it. Sort of. But this is what I’m doing this year. Candy is candy, right? Getting me to open the door is the least fun part.