During the 1940’s and ’50’s, Norman Rockwell’s Saturday Evening Post covers were eagerly awaited by just about everybody. We couldn’t wait to see what bit of Americana he had chosen to depict for the latest issue. Many people collected the covers, poring over their collections with all the nostalgia they normally devoted to the family photo album, or pride in their complete sets of baseball cards.

I particularly remember one August cover entitled “Dog Days.” It showed a postman, obviously suffering from the heat of a sweltering August day and surrounded by a motley collection of overly-friendly dogs. At the time, I had no clue as to the reference to “dog days” and assumed it had something to do with the message that dogs suffered from the heat of high summer as much as we humans do. It would be years before I learned about the dog star and its connection to August weather.

Dog Days occur during late July and the first 10 days of August. Those are days when Sirus, the brightest star in the night sky is most prominent. According to the ancient Greeks, Sirus is one of Orion’s (the Hunter’s) two dogs who help him track down the other animal constellations, but never actually catch them. Because of its brilliance, Sirus was one of the first stars noticed and recognized by ancient sky-gazers, thus it is an integral part of myths from a variety of cultures.

The ancient Egyptians associated it with the goddess Isis and the annual flooding of the Nile which brought about the growing season, as well as being a haven for the souls of the dead. In parts of the world where its appearance occurs during high summer months, Sirus is associated with fire, fever and heat – thus representing the hottest days of summer in our hemisphere. Several cultures have created imaginative diagrams of constellations representative of Canis Major and its smaller cousin, Canis Minor (meaning Greater Dog and – you guessed it – Smaller Dog.) Both are associated with the constellation Orion and are subjects of many myths generated since mankind first noticed unchanging patterns among the stars.

As I remember that magazine cover painting, I can’t help thinking about the number and variety of dogs Rockwell put in that scene. Both recognizable breeds and undoubted mongrels, they were representative of what would have been family pets in a typical American neighborhood at the time. Also typical was the obvious fact that pets were allowed to roam more or less freely in most communities during those years. Today, there would be Animal Control personnel, fines and possible law suits involved. The hapless postman seemed accepting of the attentions of that pack of canines, and one could imagine him petting them, even calling them by name, on a better day.

Dogs are territorial by nature and tend to defend what they see as their property by challenging intruders. As many a postman, meter reader, delivery boy and encyclopedia salesman has learned, dogs are particularly aggressive toward people who approach their house but are not welcomed in by their owner. It appears to the dog that the “boss” doesn’t like the would-be intruder and that it is his duty to help send them on their way. I found it helpful to be sure my dogs were introduced to such people in a friendly fashion, though over the years, some overly-protective breeds have not trusted my judgment.

Golden Retrievers, I discovered, love everybody and are more likely to lick their faces than to bite their ankles.

Possibly the most frequent intruder into a dog’s territory is the postman (or was in the days when we lived in town and our mailbox was located on the front porch.) One of the men who delivered our mail seemed to be truly afraid of our little spaniel and swung at her with his heavily loaded mailbag. Predictably, she tried to defend herself and nipped at his pant leg. There was a fuss, of course, and I was compelled to keep her indoors whenever he was in the neighborhood. All I can say in her defense is that, if he’d hit me in the face with that heavy bag, I’d probably have tried to bite him, too.