Eight things that reliably happen when you dress a pet up and open the door on Halloween.
Each one lists the costume that sets it up.
00
The Doorbell Vigilante
Every kid in the county rings the bell, and your dog has appointed itself head of security.
You open the door on a seven-year-old ghost holding out a bag. Behind your legs, 40 pounds of dog in a hot dog costume is losing its mind. The kid looks at the dog. The dog looks at the kid. Nobody moves. The parent takes the photo.
Why it works. The costume makes a genuinely intimidating dog read as ridiculous, which is the only reason this is funny instead of a liability. It buys you a laugh and it buys the dog a treat.
“He thinks he is protecting the house. He is dressed as a condiment.”
00
The Reluctant Hot Dog
The costume is on. The dog has gone completely rigid. This is now a statue.
You put it on, it fits, it looks perfect, and the dog refuses to acknowledge that it has legs. It stands in the hallway in a bun, staring at you with the specific expression of a creature that has been betrayed by someone it trusted.
Why it works. This is the single most photographed pet costume shape there is, because the dog does the comedy for you by doing absolutely nothing.
“He has not moved in four minutes. He is hoping I will come to my senses.”
00
The Cat Who Did Not Consent
Cats do not perform. Cats endure. The photo is always taken mid-dignity-collapse.
The hat goes on. The cat's ears flatten. You have approximately eleven seconds before it walks away with the slow, deliberate gait of something planning your downfall. Every photo you get is a photo of a cat leaving.
Why it works. A cat in a costume is a completely different genre from a dog in a costume: the dog is confused, the cat is offended. Both work, neither needs a caption.
“Eleven seconds. That's the whole shoot.”
00
The Taco Standoff
Two pets, two costumes, one doorway, and a disagreement about who goes first.
You dress the dog as a taco and the other one as something that does not go with tacos, and the two of them block the doorway at peak trick-or-treat traffic, absolutely certain in their own minds that they are the ones handing out sweets.
Why it works. Pairs are the underrated version of this. One pet in a costume is a photo; two pets in coordinating costumes is a series, and a series gets shared further than a single shot.
“One of them is going to be eaten first. They have both decided it will not be them.”
00
The Candy Guard
The bowl lives on the porch. Your dog has decided the bowl is now its responsibility.
You set the bowl down and turn your back for ninety seconds. You turn around to find one pet lying across the bowl like a dragon on a hoard, and the other one going through the side of it with intent.
Why it works. Pets plus a bowl of anything is the most reliably funny combination you own, and it needs no costume at all to land — although the costume makes it a set piece.
“She has not eaten any. She has simply decided they are hers now.”
00
The Neighbourhood Greeter
Some pets hide from the door. Some pets stand in the doorway like they are hosting.
The doorbell rings, you reach for the handle, and your dog has already beaten you there and is sitting directly in the middle of the frame, in a costume, waiting. Every child that comes to the house this year is going to see the dog first.
Why it works. This is the position that gets you on other people's phones. A costumed pet in the doorway is the thing the neighbours photograph and send to people who do not live on your street.
“He has decided he is part of the decorations.”
00
The Photo Session That Never Happened
You wanted a portrait. You got documentation of a disappearance.
Treats in one hand, camera in the other, costume freshly adjusted, and the moment you step back to frame the shot the subject has already turned and is walking out of frame at speed. Nine of your twelve photos are of an empty doorway with a costume in the corner of it.
Why it works. The bloopers outperform the portrait almost every time. Post the one where nothing worked — people cannot resist a dignified animal being undignified.
“Nine out of twelve. This is the best of them.”
00
The Wings In The Window
Light the window, put the pet near it, and let the street do a double take.
Your projection is glowing through the front window and your cat — in wings, because cats always end up in the wings — is silhouetted against it. From the street it looks briefly like something is coming out of your front room.
Why it works. Pairs the projection with the pet, which is the cheapest way to make a normal Halloween display a thing people stop at.
“From the street it looks like something is escaping.”