This is one of those the house is colder than outside sort of morning. I put on my sweatshirt, roused Gracie, slipped my feet into warm slippers and came downstairs. The temperature is 58°, a lot cooler than the last few days. I’m glad I put in the storm door.

I’m watching 1933’s The Ghoul. It’s has all the wonderful characteristics those old horror movies always have. Two women have spent a great deal of the film screaming or swooning. The female star managed both, one after the other. I guess it was that dual combination ability which boosted her to stardom. She was, of course, carried away from danger by the tall, dark and handsome hero wearing a dark suit, complete with vest. The butler was eerie, the  house was dark and the Ghoul was Boris Karloff.

The paper today had an article about black cats and how people are reluctant to adopt them. All the other cats go first. A woman has started a black cat rescue group to change this and has managed to place several. Maddie, my great mouser, is a black cat. I never thought about superstition when I adopted her and Fern. Maddie is just my black cat.

My house is totally decorated for Halloween. Monsters sit on shelves and on the mantle. Creatures howl and scream when touched. A cemetery with stones, statues and a mausoleum is laid out on the table. A few rats and a vulture are also on that table. The rats are disgusting looking with their teeth and claws showing. I find them repulsive which is what makes them perfect for Halloween so out they come every year. A little mouse doesn’t bother me. It borders on cute, but there is nothing cute about a rat. I remember a few years ago when I was sitting in a well-known Boston bakery having coffee and pastry when a rat ran by my table. A chill went up my back, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if a pack had followed in a wave, then attacked in unison and eaten me and my pastry. Rats are like that.