The Halloween Bandit: Remembering McDuff
A pint-sized angel with shimmering, sheer wings and a crooked halo on her head stood among the motley crew of trick-or-treaters on my front porch. She couldn’t have been more than four years old, much shorter than the others and her small pumpkin container hung lower. As I handed out Halloween candy, I suddenly heard a loud wail. “Nooooo, stop it!” Tears streamed down the face of the little angel in distress; her mother hurriedly ran up onto the porch. I looked down wondering what on earth could be wrong. Then I saw it! My Scottish terrier’s head was buried in her candy carrier frantically trying to grab a mouthful of candy before making his getaway. I assured the frantic mother that her angel hadn’t been bitten by the black furry head submerged in the pumpkin.
