Halloween? Enough already.

A few days ago, our upstairs window was open, and I heard a horrible plaintive wailing, possibly from a mortally wounded animal or a child in distress. It sounded like it was coming from the street in front, so I went outside. I stood a long time and just listened. Sometimes there was nothing, deadly quiet, but then that awful piercing cry resumed.

Later, Dale and a neighbor were talking out in front, and they heard it. The two of them walked around, probably talking more than listening, but still. Nothing. The sound was haunting the entire neighborhood, but no one could figure out what it was or where it was coming from.

While I was on the phone with my sister complaining about the strange sound, she said maybe I should call the homeowner’s association. It was the middle of the afternoon, unencumbered by darkness, so I decided to risk it all. I said, “I’m going outside. If I lose you, I’ll call you back.”

I walked to the front porch, still in my Minnie Mouse jammies, and just stood quietly, listening. My sister was still on the line, and I put the phone out in the air so she could hear it. Oh, yeah. She heard it, too. What in the world could this be?

As I faced the street, the sound seemed to be coming from the house on the right. They hadn’t been home in some days, and I began to worry. Maybe their cat was hurt. Maybe they were inside butchered and dying. I walked up to the garage and put my ear to the door. I could hear the wailing, but it wasn’t coming from the garage.

The sound was fierce, and my heart was racing. “Cheryl, are you still there? It’s getting louder. I’m closing in on it.”

Ever-so-slowly, I turned away from the garage and found myself staring down at an evil black cat, spinning and wailing. However, now I could now see the cat was plastic. And presumably battery-operated. Probably with a timer. Possibly with remote speakers, because this thing could crank out some noise.

“I’m going to put ze phone down,” I said to my sister, channeling Teri Gar from Young Frankenstein, as in, “Put ze candle back.” And then I looked around to see if anyone was watching. The coast was clear, and I carefully picked up the cat. I found a switch on the bottom, and I turned it off.

And then there was peace.

I hope I’m not morphing into a curmudgeon, but Halloween? Enough already. I dread the trick-or-treaters, but there’s no way out.