Dog days of summer

Ahhhh, the dog days of summer.  A long, long, long time ago, when I was a young whippersnapper, I kept hearing that phrase.  I didn't know what it meant, but it certainly sounded menacing. 

Finally, I asked my grandmother about it.  She thought the phrase referred to the time in August when the dogs were sick of the sticky heat and got cranky. 

You never know.  Maybe the hot weather does make dogs cranky.  But the flaw in that explanation is that my sister is the world's biggest bitch.  Any weather makes her mean and cranky.

And I have another problem with the theory.  If hot humid weather is dog weather, then my cats must be dogs because the heat makes them crazy.  The hotter it gets, the more they nag and beg to go out on the porch.  But the fools are wearing fur coats.  So even though the air conditioner is running, I'll leave the door open enough so that they can run in and out.  When they stop running in and out, I start running in and out to check on them.  When they're limply sprawled out, I grab them and haul their furry butts indoors.

 In the middle of the day when things are really heating up, I make them stay indoors.  Even though the porch is on the north side of the house, it can still get unbearably hot. So if I'm lucky, after the cats have been dragged in, they'll settle down and nap.  Today wasn't one of those lucky days.  They nagged while Angie howled.  And when I was nearly ready to scream, they finally settled down.  Just like little kids, cats are so cute when they're sleeping.

If my Grandmother was still here, I'd call her while my feline tormentors were napping.  And if I was feeling cranky, maybe I'd tell her that the dog days of August got their name from a star, not a bunch of drooling slobbering canines.