It’s hot and it’s muggy and the dogs aren’t doing much these days besides lazing in the shade and panting. So why are these weeks between the beginning of July and early September called “the dog days of summer”?
Look in the sky this evening, assuming it’s not too cloudy, and find Sirius, the Dog Star. (Yes, young techies, satellite radio is named for an actual star.) Through the summer, Sirius is the brightest star in the sky, rising and setting with the sun like a dog following its master. The ancient Romans thought Sirius’ brightness actually added heat to the earth, causing the high temperatures of July and August. Hence, the dog days.
Dogs were respected and loved by many ancient peoples. The Egyptian pharaohs had their Salukis and Basenjis while Chinese emperors had their Chow Chows and Pekinese. But apparently the Jewish Kings did not. Throughout both Hebrew and Christian Scriptures, not a single word of admiration for dogs can be found. (If you find one, let me know. The best I can discover is the neutral Judges 7:5.)
For me, this is one of the great mysteries of the Faith. Why is the dog so despised by the historians, poets and prophets? Consider many of the great virtues. Who exemplifies faithfulness, loyalty, courage, duty and humility better than a good dog? Who is quicker to defend the family or even sacrifice life for one’s master? Then there are those big brown eyes, adoring and worshipping . . .
Aha! Adoration and worship, in the mind of the Hebrew prophet, belongs to no one but God. Perhaps we can understand the absence of dogs from scriptures after all. On the other hand, wouldn’t that adoring relationship between dog and master be an ideal metaphor for the relationship between the believer and God?
Maybe not. Jesus says in John 15:15, "No longer do I call you slaves, for the slave does not know what his master is doing; but I have called you friends, for all things that I have heard from my Father I have made known to you.” Moreover, we are not God’s pets but God’s daughters and sons.
Perhaps the answer to my scriptural conundrum lies somewhere here, between the love of God and the love of dogs, and the complicated human relationships with both the sacred and the profane. But then, maybe not.
Each of my dogs has been a blessed gift from God. I am humbled by their adoration, and I hope to be worthy of their trust. For these things, and so much more my dogs provide, I am eternally thankful to the God who created all of us.
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