Let’s start with a universal truth: dogs are majestic, noble, loyal creatures descended from wolves, masters of the wild, hunters of ancient forests, and protectors of human civilizations for over 15,000 years. Winnie Lew, my co-pilot, is included in this.

And now… I have dressed her like a taco. And she is not happy.

There is no more vivid symbol of mankind’s absolute dominance over nature than the moment you see a golden retriever dressed as a hot dog with mustard stripes and little foam buns on each side.

Somewhere, a wolf howls in the distance, mourning the loss of his proud cousin, now reduced to waddling around a neighborhood in a pirate hat with a fake parrot strapped to his back.

We used to train dogs to hunt wild boar. Now we train them to wear banana costumes and pose for Instagram. Evolution, ladies and gentlemen. Evolution. Just ask my co-pilot, Winnie Lew. So why do we do this to them.

If I am being honest dressing dogs in costumes has nothing to do with Winnie Lew and everything to do with me.

It’s like it fulfills something deep within my human soul.

Maybe it’s the desire to bring joy to the world and see smiles on people’s faces. Maybe it’s to get more likes on social media. Or maybe it’s because, somewhere deep inside, I secretly enjoy confusing her.

I say things like, “Look, Winnie Lew loves her lobster outfit! She a great advertisement for the church’s Lobsterfest fundraiser.”

But Winnie Lew’s expression tells another story. Her eyes say, “I hate you. You’re not my real mother.”

And yet I still do it. Just look at Facebook. We have paraded our pups around in tutus, cheerleader outfits, shark fins, Elvis jumpsuits, and in one notable case I spied last year, as the entire cast of The Avengers.

I know I have seen posts of a pug who has worn more costumes than Meryl Streep.

But there is a bit of history that will back all of us costumers up. The teacher in me has to bring of the origins.

The tradition of dressing dogs likely began in ancient civilizations – where royal pets were adorned with gold collars, silk cloaks, and probably tiny crowns that they immediately tried to eat. Fast forward to the 21st century, and we now have full-blown canine fashion industries.

There are dog tuxedos, dog prom dresses, dog wedding gowns (for those rare but important moments when two Chihuahuas finally tie the knot). Just Google it.

There are parades, gatherings, and contests that center around dogs in costumes. Winnie Lew once attended a ‘Howl’oween party where all the dogs dressed in costume. We did not last long at the party as my co-pilot quietly revolted by biting through the straps of her bumblebee wings.

But let’s imagine, just for a moment, Winnie Lew’s internal monologue about being dressed in a bumblebee costume for the party:

“Okay, I was promised a walk. This seems like a pre-walk ritual. Why are you putting fabric on my legs? This smells like polyester. OH NO, IS THIS A HAT? Why does it have antennae? I am a predator. I was born to run. To hunt. To – oh wait, is that a treat? Okay, fine, I’ll wear the wings. But I draw the line at glitter. Wait…I am going to have to be seen by other dogs? Nope. No way!”

I can almost hear her canine ancestors howling in solidarity. “Hold strong, my fluffy sister. Hold strong. This humiliation shall pass.”

Winnie Lew has represented all of the top categories in the world of canine couture.

Food – she has been a taco.

The Animal Kingdom – she has been both a bumble bee and a lobster.

Historical and professional figures – she has been Ruth Bader Ginsberg.

And last but not least – super heroes – she has been Wonder Woman.

She sported that costume at the local assisted living facility’s Halloween dog parade costume contest. She did not win best costume, which hurt her feelings because she felt she not only wore the costume well but embodied that hero.

In fairness, I don’t think all dogs hate costumes. Some seem to genuinely enjoy it. These are usually dogs who understand the power of positive reinforcement—or dogs who just love attention so much, they’ll wear anything as long as someone claps.

You know the type.

That Pomeranian who struts down the street in sunglasses and a tutu like she’s headed to brunch with Taylor Swift (she won the Halloween dog parade costume contest). She doesn’t just tolerate the costume; she becomes the costume.

Or just see any post about Doug the Pug. He is a celebrity because of costumes. Well, that and a tongue that hangs out.

So why do I keep dressing Winnie Lew in ridiculous outfits?

Because it’s hilarious.

 

There is something inherently funny about the contrast between a dog’s natural seriousness and the utter absurdity of a taco suit. Dogs are earnest. They don’t do sarcasm. A dog doesn’t pretend to enjoy a costume to spare your feelings.

If she looks miserable, it’s real. If she looks thrilled, it’s probably because there’s peanut butter nearby.

And in a world that is often chaotic, stressful, and too full of seriousness, there’s great comfort in the simple joy of a dog dressed as a lobster.

It’s comedy without cynicism.

It’s joy wrapped in fabric.

It’s man’s best friend, now man’s best fashion statement.

Because, really, dogs – Winnie Lew included, don’t care if they’re dressed like dragons, doctors, or disco dancers.

Winnie Lew cares if I’m happy. She cares if I’m laughing. She cares if I share my bacon or Cheetos.

So if putting a top hat on your terrier brings even a smidge of joy into your day – or a million views on TikTok – then by all means, carry on.

 

The world needs more joy, more silliness, and yes, more photos of bulldogs dressed as ballerinas. Just remember to say thank you to your furry friend. My co-pilot always gets a big thank you.

And you might want to throw in an extra treat or two.

Winnie Lew will put up with a lot – especially if she thinks she is making folks, especially me, happy. But my co-pilot has made it clear she draws the line at the Elvis costume and wig I’ve been looking at. Treats or no treats, she has drawn the line. I’ve even offered to throw in a grilled bacon, peanut butter, and banana sandwich.

No thank you, no thank you very much.

Ah well, there is always next year. Better be careful Winnie Lew, you never know what I might come up with.

Amy George is an Episcopal priest in Selma, Alabama, where she shares an office with her volunteer pastoral care assistant, Winnie Lew. When not doing God’s work, you can find Amy doing Dog’s work–vacuuming a never ending supply of dog hair, chauffeuring Winnie Lew, and being the provider of endless dog treats. Amy feels blessed to have no fear of ever being attacked by squirrels, UPS delivery people, or small lizards.