The Dog Days of Summer
I was saddened to hear the story of a Thor that was found by a police officer in a hot car at Westgate Mall last Sunday afternoon. The Spartanburg Public Safety officer shattered the car window to rescue the English bulldog from the sweltering car. Thor was lying on the passenger seat, panting, wheezing, and unable to move. The officer took the dog to an emergency veterinarian clinic before transporting him to the Spartanburg Humane Society. The shelter reported that Thor died due to complications from heat stroke after he was left in the car. The dog’s owner was arrested and charged with animal cruelty,
Earlier this summer I read the story about a woman who left her miniature schnauzer inside her automobile in a hot parking lot while she spent more than hour in an air-conditioned beauty salon. Though she left the windows partially opened so her pet would have fresh air, the well-coiffed lady returned, only to find that her dog had died.
It makes you wonder why we call these hot, humid days the Dog Days of summer.
How hot is it?
The old clichés can be heard most anywhere folks can find a shady place to sit and complain.
“Hotter than a two-dollar pistol!”
“Hotter than a forty-dollar mule!”
“So hot that when I dug up potatoes in my garden, they were already baked.”
“So hot that we had to feed the hens crushed ice to keep them from laying hard-boiled eggs.”
Since I was a boy I have known that the weeks between my mother’s birthday on July 4 and mine near the end of August were the Dog Days of summer. Though the local weather reports indicate a few cooler days this week, I’ve been around long enough to know that the hottest days may still be ahead of us.
How hot has it been?
A friend, with beads of perspiration dripping down his face, grumbled, “It’s hotter than half of Georgia.” He must have meant the half that includes Atlanta, which like Columbia, always seems hotter than any place nearby.
When our daughter lived in Nashville she called to report that on a particularly sweltering day her beagle was missing. After a thorough search of the premises, she found her pup stretched out in the cool porcelain bathtub, as if waiting for someone to turn on the water. Dogs suffer as much as people do when the temperatures rise into the 90s. They, too, are uncomfortable in oppressive heat. So why is this time of the year referred to as Dog Days?
If you can find a place where the night sky is unobscured by artificial lights and pollution, the stars are clearly visible. People of ancient cultures gazed into the heavens, imagining that they were seeing figures depicted in the stars. It was an ancient version of connect the dots. We now call the configurations they saw constellations. Amazingly, Native Americans, the ancient Chinese, and the people of Greece and Rome all saw similar images in the stars. In these different cultures, separated by oceans, stargazers gave the constellations the same names. Big and Little Bear to Native Americans were Ursa Major and Ursa Minor to Europeans. Ursa means bear. We know these constellations best as the Big Dipper and the Little Dipper. Diverse cultures saw the likeness of a bull in the constellation Taurus, though to Native Americans the bull was a bison.
Canis Major and Canis Minor mean Big Dog and Little Dog. The brightest star in Canis Major is Sirius, the Dog Star. Sirius was regarded as the companion of Orion, the hunter constellation. The Dog Star is so brilliant the Romans thought of it as a secondary sun, providing heat to the earth. In late summer the Dog Star rises and sets with the sun. Ancient people believed that the conjunction of the sun and the Dog Star caused an extended period of hot, muggy weather; hence the name, Dog Days.
Dog Days arrive when the humid weather of summer sets in. In the old days it was a time when the pace of life slowed way down, a time when families went to the mountains for cooler temperatures. People from the Lowcountry came to the Upstate to the resorts like Glenn Springs to escape, not only the sultry days of summer but also the danger of malaria carried by mosquitoes.
Dog Days are no longer a period of inactivity. Commercially, we have added a tax-free weekend, which has become one of the busiest times for retail shopping, second only to the days after Thanksgiving. Many schools begin their fall term in the Dog Days of summer at a time when it is almost too hot to go fishing.
Maybe the best way to cope with Dog Days is the old-fashioned way. Back before air conditioning was available, people knew this was a time to take it easy. Sitting outside after the sun went down, spending the night on a sleeping porch, sipping iced tea in the shade, or soaking in a creek were all ways of coping with the heat. Some women kept their perfume bottles in the refrigerator. One man revealed that he placed plastic bags of frozen vegetables between his sheets a few minutes before bedtime.
Clare and I each have a reusable ice pack that we keep in the freezer. They are intended to sooth the ordinary aches and pains that are a part of grand-parenting. During the Dog Days an ice pack provides blessed relief for me after a couple of hours of intense gardening or for Clare after an extreme housecleaning.
Returning from a trip to Tennessee several years ago, Clare and I stopped for gasoline at a convenience store. As I stood at the counter to pay for a tank of gas, a rough-hewn mountain man ahead of me purchased two cold beers, then requested a plastic cup and a plastic bowl. When I left the store, I caught a glimpse of the man sitting in the shade of a large sycamore tree. Next to him was a big red dog. The man opened both bottles of beer, pouring one in the cup for himself and the other in the bowl for his pet. As I pumped gasoline into my car, I saw the man finish his beer and the dog lap the bowl dry before they both stretched out on the grass beneath the tree for a nap.
Dog Days indeed!
Kirk H. Neely
© August 2013