After hours on the move I made it to State College, the tiny airport in Centre County, PA, to be met by Becky without the hound. He’d drawn far too much of a crowd (and tried to make too many friends) last time I’d arrived at the baggage claim belt, so this was something of a relief. Heading straight home, in pre-halloween darkness, I went straight into the house to be greeted as enthusiastically as ever by the pack. A defensive effort to regain the high ground went awry as I mistook a dog bed for an easy chair, tried to sit down to hold off the onslaught, and ended up on the floor beneath a mess of pups. Aside from the bruises, my reintroduction couldn’t have gone better, particularly as I gave out the toys I’d brought with me.
In the morning, of course, they were back to ushering me into the yard to play frisbee. This was something I’d missed in Scotland, and while I’d been away, Luna had begun to shine in her retrieval skills – something Jackson was still half-heartedly working on, despite it being in his blood. The closest he came to retrieving was bringing a frisbee into the kitchen and slapping it down in front of me with a clear message of ‘play with me for heaven’s sake!’. And he was still deferring to the others, wisely keeping out of the way of flying teeth and bodyweight.
Soon back into the rhythm of walking a couple of dogs each day, Jackson and I were both delighted with the company, especially big pack-brother Vulcan. The giant shepherd would always announce with yelps and whines that he was going for a walk, letting out the secret and causing jealousy in the ranks. In fact he was so intent on going out for walks, more so than the rest of the dogs, that it wasn’t unheard of to slip Jackson out of the door, only to find a totem pole of heads pushing through the gap as the door closed, Luna at the bottom, Mars the Dane at the top with his alien-shaped head and, in the middle, Vulcan with shoulders against door and frame trying to force his way through. He had a tendency to put his nose where it shouldn’t be, too, sniffing too close as Jackson cocked his leg, only to receive a warm jet on the ear for his trouble. But these two simply loved their time out on the lead around the neighbourhood, or further afield in one of the state or local parks.
The parks and woodland, too, were spectacular at this time of year, and blessed by a relatively mild and windless autumn, taking the leaf fall out of Fall, resulting in an explosion of bronzes, rubies, burgundies, orange, yellow, browns and greens, the latter still holding on as Centre County held its breath. Every journey, on foot or by car, showed a new combination of colours to warm the soul, even as temperatures started to ease lower and the breezes brought further change form the north. By early November, the display would be gone, the woods darkened and almost leafless, needles the only things holding some colour until winter winds brought a first breath of chill and a shading of snow on our side of the mountain.
Meanwhile, for the humans, Halloween turned out to be huge, even if Jackson wasn’t so impressed with the decorations. The next three months would present the busiest celebratory quarter for me in some time: a birthday or two, Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year, all before my return to the UK. Each one, birthdays aside, set to bring a change of decorations, inside and out. Becky’s biggest adventure was clearly Halloween, to the extent the neighbours referred to hers as the Halloween House, even at Christmas! I set to, trying to make sure family and neighbourhood could see a return to the ghosts of halloweens past, from pumpkins, witches and Gremlins to the occasional dragon and ghost ship out front. A lot of hocus pocus in our own sleepy hollow.
In the UK, ‘trick or treat’ is a relatively recent and small scale affair compared to the US. As a youngster, I would maybe have gone out ‘guising’ towards the end of October, trying to raise ‘a penny for the Guy’ so I’d have someone to ‘burn’ and money for Bonfire Night entertainment. Fireworks and sparklers were the order of the night on the 5th November, commemorating poor old Guido Fawkes and his failed attempt to blow up parliament and the King. So around the town and neighbourhood, the expenditure – evident financial as well as effort – came as a bit of a shock. And then in some cases, almost as soon as the ghouls had gone, up went the Christmas lights and trees, even before Thanks had been given. Thanksgiving was on its way first, and this would be something I’d never experienced, and was looking forward to doing so. After all, there was a lot to be grateful for, and who doesn’t love an excuse for a turkey dinner?
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