The Dog Days of Winter Ken Fliés
From Into the Backlands, a Lost Lake Folk Art memoir scheduled to be released in September 2018.
A Peace Corps Memoir read once that the phrase “dog days of summer” originated with the ancient Romans. Back home, the dog days ran from mid-July and lasted at least a month—supposedly the period of least rainfall in the Midwest, and the hottest, sultriest days of summer. In Brazil, however, it was winter and there had been no rain for several months. The landscape was brown and dry with trees stripped bare. Dust clung to every building and tree, and the roads were little more than pools of dust. There was no feed on the land for cattle; they became skinny, sullen wretches whose every rib bone could be counted, the fortunate ones already sent to slaughter. Not only did plant and animal life suffer, but languor seemed to be the state of people as well. The air was hot and asphyxiating and the humidity low. It could drop to as low as ten to fifteen percent, causing a lot of Peace Corps Volunteer Ken Fliés on a river ferry in Brazil, 1962. respiratory problems. The town seemed to have passed from existence. People stayed indoors out of the heat and dust for fear of contracting the gripe—flu, so there was little activity on the streets. Truly, the dog days had arrived. It was indeed the dog days of winter for our old dog Pluto. Shortly after returning from our travels we went to Santa Maria for a couple days to rewire their water pumping station with materials we obtained on our trip. Usually upon arriving home at any time of day or night, Pluto would come running from behind the house to greet us; not this time. Our neighbor João Amador came over and told us that Paulo (Dr. Pepper II) had come by late the day before with a rifle and shot Pluto. João said he noticed Pluto was foaming at the mouth and having trouble with his balance, so they assumed he had rabies. A rabies bite in the backlands meant death, nothing else.
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Lost Lake Folk Opera 103
