So we got back from trick-or-treating last night, which was fairly painless, although not that long lasting. (Forty-five minutes! Pfff! In my day, in Arizona, we did two hours! Mind you, evening in Phoenix in October is rarely 40 degrees, so I can see the logic in knocking off early…) My costume, such as it was, consisted of throwing on black angel wings and a cowboy hat. I figured it anybody asked, I was a Tom Waits song. Nobody asked. (There was a lot of cleavage and the Boots involved, so probably nobody cared.)

Our return was heralded by an odd incident. Sitting on the back porch, staring into through the glass door and looking piteous, was Ben. He had apparently managed to slip out while the dogs were coming in, as he so often tries to do…and having gotten outside in the cold, decided he wanted no truck with it.

I feel a little better about his escape attempts now. At least he knows where to come back to. I may let him explore the fenced yard under supervision at some point, since he wants it so bad…