Wednesday, August 10, 2005
THE 'TERROR' OF DOG DAYS
These miserable times, then, are the days of the dog star Sirius.
That’s the 40 days and nights when Sirius is aligned with the sun.
In ancient times, residents in countries bordering the Mediterranean noted that the excessive heat not only made them mean and picky, but that particularly nasty diseases seemed to flare up during the most blistering breath of summer.
They called the time from early July until about mid-August "dog days."
So, hundreds of years later, did my grandma. And my mother.
Grandma said dogs went mad -- that is, developed rabies – during dog days. A stray dog on the dusty roads of Scott County, Va., was not something you rushed to embrace in the early 1950s.
Grandma also said that snakes went blind during dog days. This temporary inability to distinguish between a baby rabbit and a boy’s bare ankle would cause a snake to strike at everything, according to Grandma.
We kept a sharp eye out for snakes wearing dark glasses.
Mother, on the other hand, was convinced (as were most people) that the chances of contacting polio increased a hundred fold during dog days, as streams and rivers ran slow and congested with scum and brown foam.
We were forbidden to go swimming and discouraged from fishing during the dog days of summer.
True, no one knew at that time where polio came from. Lifesaving Salk vaccine was years away.
The North Fork of the Holston River, which ran by the house, was low and contaminated-looking, especially in August. The river as a source of polio was as good a guess as any, and a youngster’s protestations and loud caterwauling carried little weight in the adult world.
As a result, dog days were something to endure. No visiting the Deep Hole for swimming. Danged little fishing, unless you sneaked and did it.
I still hate dog days, though it has been several decades since summer heat and humidity gave me diaper rash, even in places where one did not wear diapers.
The heat drives me slightly mad, much like the dogs of yesteryear. If it would provide relief, I’d bite somebody.
I know now that snakes do not go blind in July and August, though they do shed their skins in summer and may, in fact, be a bit incapacitated in the vision department.
We’re big people now, and can go fishing if we want to. But who wants to when the temperature is 90-plus and the humidity matches it?
Some things never change. Dog days remain an endurance contest. This summer especially, it’s a contest that I feel, once again, I’m losing.
END
That’s the 40 days and nights when Sirius is aligned with the sun.
In ancient times, residents in countries bordering the Mediterranean noted that the excessive heat not only made them mean and picky, but that particularly nasty diseases seemed to flare up during the most blistering breath of summer.
They called the time from early July until about mid-August "dog days."
So, hundreds of years later, did my grandma. And my mother.
Grandma said dogs went mad -- that is, developed rabies – during dog days. A stray dog on the dusty roads of Scott County, Va., was not something you rushed to embrace in the early 1950s.
Grandma also said that snakes went blind during dog days. This temporary inability to distinguish between a baby rabbit and a boy’s bare ankle would cause a snake to strike at everything, according to Grandma.
We kept a sharp eye out for snakes wearing dark glasses.
Mother, on the other hand, was convinced (as were most people) that the chances of contacting polio increased a hundred fold during dog days, as streams and rivers ran slow and congested with scum and brown foam.
We were forbidden to go swimming and discouraged from fishing during the dog days of summer.
True, no one knew at that time where polio came from. Lifesaving Salk vaccine was years away.
The North Fork of the Holston River, which ran by the house, was low and contaminated-looking, especially in August. The river as a source of polio was as good a guess as any, and a youngster’s protestations and loud caterwauling carried little weight in the adult world.
As a result, dog days were something to endure. No visiting the Deep Hole for swimming. Danged little fishing, unless you sneaked and did it.
I still hate dog days, though it has been several decades since summer heat and humidity gave me diaper rash, even in places where one did not wear diapers.
The heat drives me slightly mad, much like the dogs of yesteryear. If it would provide relief, I’d bite somebody.
I know now that snakes do not go blind in July and August, though they do shed their skins in summer and may, in fact, be a bit incapacitated in the vision department.
We’re big people now, and can go fishing if we want to. But who wants to when the temperature is 90-plus and the humidity matches it?
Some things never change. Dog days remain an endurance contest. This summer especially, it’s a contest that I feel, once again, I’m losing.
END
