“Um!” mumbled Rick, for he had reached over and taken a cookie from a plate filled with them. “You heard Ma say that!” He tossed the expectant Ruddy part of a cookie, took another one himself and rushed out again as Mazie, with uplifted broom, started after him.
“You can’t spoil my appetite with one cookie, nor with half a dozen,” challenged Rick as he went to his room to “slick up,” before the coming meal. The faithful dog followed.
“Ruddy, I’ll have to be extra careful of you, now that the dog-days are coming,” said the boy aloud, talking to his pet as he often did, for Ruddy seemed to understand. “I’ll have to keep you on a leash or leave you chained up when I go off without you. Can’t take any chances these dog-days.”
Rick, like many other boys and grown persons, also, had a mistaken notion about the so-called “dog-days.” Some of you may have the idea that “dog-days,” are those hot days in summer when dogs are most likely to go mad, are apt to be inflicted with rabies, when their bite may cause human beings, or other animals attacked by a dog so suffering, to become infected with the germs.
It is true that the “dog-days” come in hot weather, from the beginning of July to the middle of August, but they are not so named because dogs go mad on those days. The “dog-days” are so called because during that period, from the beginning of July to the middle of August, Sirius, the Dog-Star, in the constellation Canis Major as its Latin name is, rises and sets with the sun. That is, the sun and the Dog-Star keep pace, rising and setting together.
That’s why those days are called “dog-days,” and not because dogs suffer from the heat and go mad then. It is true that more dogs go mad in summer than in winter, but that is only because of the heat—since all germs increase with heat and moisture—and not because the days have been called after a dog.
But Rick, like many other lads, had this notion and he began to worry lest some of the town officials, thinking of the danger of mad dogs, might try to get rid of Ruddy.
“I’ll have to look after you pretty sharp,” he said to the dog.
Ruddy wagged his tail, for he knew he was being talked about, and tried to get up on the bed to lick Rick’s face with his tongue, but was sternly though laughingly repulsed. For Mrs. Dalton had a strict rule about Ruddy keeping off the beds.
“Oh, Rick! Supper!” called his mother a little later, when he was trying to make a refractory lock of hair, or his “cowlick,” remain where he plastered it down.