Diēs Caniculārēs (Dog Days)

I left Houston late yesterday for a few days at the farm. I did not travel alone. Two of my grand-dogs, Porter (my guess is he’s a beagle/weiner dog combo) and Presley (all beagle), accompanied me in the truck. Their family is travelling to Destin and I’m the designated baby sitter. They’ve been to the farm several times and they like it a lot.

We were an hour and a half down I-10 when I noticed that one of them had emitted a rather strong odor. I scowled at both. Porter looked the most guilty. I rolled down the driver’s side window to clear the cab, and both dogs immediately sat straight up and stuck their noses in the air, taking in rural scents they do not normally encounter. So I switched the air conditioner from recycled air to outside air. Each of them moved quickly to a vent and stuck their noses to it and remained transfixed by the smells for the next hour and a half. It makes you wonder what it is like to have one of your senses that hyped up. It also makes you wonder how an animal with such a sense of smell could survive emitted aromas like that.

Technically the “dog days” do not begin until sometime in July. The Ancient Romans identified that period as July 24 – August 24 (some say July 23 -- August 23), and the Germans, French, and Italians stick with those dates still. The Old Farmer’s Almanac list that period as the forty days from July 3 until August 11, which coincides with the ancient rising of the Dog Star, Sirius. According the 1552 Book of Common Prayer, the “Dog Daies” extend from July 6 – August 17. The 1559 version says July 7—August 18. The lectionary of the 1611 KJV lists July 6 to September 5.

All kinds of things were associated with this summer period. Werewolves were supposed to rise just before sunrise. It was believed to be an evil time when “the seas boiled, wine turned sour, dogs grew mad, and all creatures became languid, causing to man burning fevers, hysterics, and phrensies” (according to Brady’s Clavis Calendarium of 1813).

Mostly, the dog days refer to the hot, humid, sultry weather. This year they started sometime in May and have no predictable end. It’s 104° on the front porch at the farm and no significant rain has fallen since January (a total of 3” in six months). Each morning the dark clouds blow over bearing gulf moisture, but refuse to shed their treasure on the land. They just add to the humidity. The hot wind blows all day like a convection oven, cooking everything it touches. (Note the difference between the front yard this year (above) and last year (below).

So by mid morning, I must sit in the cooled house, read, write, nap, and grade papers. And pray for rain.