*Dog Days were popularly 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.
It’s another in a long and unusual line of relentlessly beautiful summer days in Halifax. The sun has burst forth from a Perseids-showered night, the leaves and the grass are an eye-popping green, and the cool morning air promises later warmth. What’s a Business Guy (BG) to do, but walk the dog to work?
Saffy, the Resident Canine, has been a member of the BG’s office team since the day we brought her home from the shelter six years ago. She has matured from a smart-but-neurotic adolescent mutt (known affectionately as a Siberian Airhead due to her blue eyes, blond coat, and expressive vocabulary) to a smart-but-slightly-less-neurotic middle-aged member of the BG’s eclectic business pack. If the BG is away for a few days, one of the office staff will stop by the house and pick up the dog for work. It’s true: they can’t stand to be without her.
So, the Business Guy and Saffy are enjoying their daily walk to the office, a pleasant route which takes them through the neighbourhood and across a few busy streets. It’s a great way for Saffy to get certain things out of her system, a task for which the BG is prepared, poo-bag in one hand, lunch bag in the other (and never the twain shall meet). They amble along, enjoying the late-summer morning and each other’s company. Eventually, Saffy and the BG stop at a crosswalk, which is never a long wait around here, as Halifax drivers are known to stop for pedestrians and smile and wave them along.
But there is always one, isn’t there?
They are halfway across the street, cars stopped in both directions, when a white car speeds through the crosswalk, narrowly missing our two intrepid pedestrians, one of whom, luckily, sees it coming. Thinking quickly, the BG decides that of the two bags he’s carrying, he’d like to hang onto his lunch. So he biffs the other bag at the car – a loaded poo-bag.
The poo-bag catches on the windshield-wiper, and there it stays as the car speeds off. Other drivers who stop to make sure Saffy and the BG are all right are understandably amused when they hear what was in the bag.
One of them says what we’re all thinking: “I’ve always wanted to do that.”