Reflections on Life and Faith,
by David Keating

 Dog Days

August 19, 2006

     Well here we are in the dog days of summer. We've taken our vacations, are not too disappointed that the lawn has turned brown, and are really not that upset that the new flower beds seem to have wilted. We've caught up on the reruns of TV shows that we've seen too many times anyway, and lets face it, there are only so many times that you can watch those guys pulling tractors uphill with their teeth on the Discovery Channel.

     Did anyone else grow up thinking that the "dog days of summer" had something to do with dogs? Or at least with their habit of flopping down under a tree and panting continuously in the muggy summer heat?

     I thought about that as I watched Lucky standing in the middle of the living room, tongue hanging out, drooling on the newly cleaned carpet, and looking at me with an accusatory expression. He seemed to wonder why the heck I was sitting hunched over a computer keyboard when it was so obviously much better outside under the pine trees. The computer, however, is strategically located near the air conditioner; a relationship that Lucky can't quite seem to figure out.  There's a reason we didn't call him Einstein.

      He came by his name honestly though. He was lucky enough to catch Meaghan's mother's eye at the humane society many years ago when my mom and dad were looking for a new dog. He thereby undoubtedly extended his lifespan by several orders of magnitude, and ensured that my carpet would never lack for pet hair and dog spit.

     The point, and I may have one, is that the term "dog days", contrary to my childhood assumption, has nothing to do with our trusty canine companions. As it turns out, the ancient Greeks and Romans apparently noticed that Sirius, also known as the Dog Star, slipped behind the sun about the same time that it got uncomfortably warm every summer. I guess they must have imagined it spending its time yapping at 'ol Sol, getting it all hot under the collar, which in turn made the ancients sweat in their togas.

     Given the heat wave that most of the northern hemisphere endured in July, old Sirius must have been barking up a storm this year. It's certainly a more colourful story than global warming.

     Modern science has of course debunked such ideas. What happens in the heavens has no effect on the Earth. Except for meteorites. And asteroids. And solar flares. And ... hmmm. Maybe those guys were on to something after all. If that's the case, I wish someone would tell the fella who writes my horoscope. He predicted fame and fortune for me before the year was out. He's running a little short on time. Maybe his celestial clock is calculated in dog years or something.

     The sky may not be full of barking dogs; but just because we see the heavens through the lens of things like the Hubble telescope doesn't make it any less  incredible. In fact, knowing that Sirius is actually a long way away (8.5 light years actually. That's almost fifty trillion miles, and something more in kilometres) makes the vastness of Creation, and the unfathomable Presence of the Creator all the more awe-inspiring.

     So before our thoughts turn to the routine of September lets take advantage of these last dog days. Take your significant other, your kids, your grandkids, or even your dog, outside. Look up. See God.

David Keating