“Hey Dad, 1st Halloween in Spencerville was a blast. Russell inhaled cheesesteak, fell for pizza, and I swear he smirked amid a sea of candy. The magical realm of Spencerville felt real & epic. All in all, a day in paradise with my four-legged buddy. – Fat Russell”

Listen to the story here.
First trick or treat in Spencerville—I knew it was going to be an adventure. But with Russell, the audaciously charming English bulldog at my side, I knew I had nothing to worry about.

“Come on, Russell,” I coaxed, holding out a cheesesteak. You’d think that dog had won the canine lottery. The stubborn furball’s eyes lit up like fireworks on a fourth of July. He hastily munched the treat, almost inhaling it, before sniffing his way towards Happy Hounds Dog Walking.

Later we trotted into the Golden Gate Gardens, Russell glaring at every swimming enclosure we passed, reflecting his well-known distaste for anything not so ‘terra firma.’ By the time we slowly ambled out of the Gardens, the sun had begun to dip, setting the stage for Halloween.

Restaurants began to light up; the aroma of Pup-Tastic Pizza and The Bone Appetit floated into the air, irresistibly drawing in Russell. “I could murder a pizza right now,” I mused aloud. Russell merely cocked an ear, his eyes too entranced by the sight of Charlie the Italian bulldog chef flipping pies like an Italian grandmaster.

As we meandered into Cream Maltese Meadow, a perceptible charge of anticipation hung in the air. Halloween in Spencerville was surreal, every year a crazy amalgamation of curious pets, vibrant decorations, and an overindulgence of treats.

As we rounded the block to begin our trick-or-treating, Russell’s friend, Biggie, joined us in his adorable party hat. The fun was infectious, and I couldn’t help but feel the corners of my mouth lift into a wide grin. This wasn’t just a day in the life of Russell–it was a slice of paradise in Spencerville.

We approached the first house – a cute little cottage belonging to the owner of The Snooty Snout Boutique. The door cracked open, and out popped a familiar snout. “Trick or Treat!” I called out, holding up Russell’s canvas trick-or-treat bag. Inside went a cheesesteak, carefully wrapped in wax paper.

Russell didn’t hesitate to give the treat his seal of approval with a drooly lick, tail wagging like a misplaced windscreen wiper.

The next ten houses were a repeat of the first, a steady stream of Russell’s favorite treats filling his bag. Midway through our adventure, we stopped, and I unzipped my backpack to unveil the pièce de résistance—Muggsy, Russell’s sleep companion. With a huff of amusement, Russell nuzzled into his toy, recharging for the second round of Trick or Treating.

When we finally came to the end of our Trick or Treat pilgrimage, I looked over at Russell. With his tongue lolling out, the English Bulldog had a satisfied look on his face. As much as this night had been about candy and treats, it was Russell’s contentment that was the sweetest part for me.

Life in Spencerville may have been a legend crafted to comfort grieving pet parents. Still, Halloween, with Russell by my side, felt every bit as real and incredible, as if the usual rules of life and death blurred into the fantastical realm of Spencerville. After all, isn’t that what Halloween is all about? For one spectacular night, anything is possible. We were the living proof.