DOG DAYS, A FABLE
by
Diana Hannon Forrester (copyright 1995 All Rights Reserved)
The heat was such that even old Argoni, the kennel
master, was too young to remember a hotter summer. The cooks and
kitchen maids suffered as they worked around the ovens preparing
the king's meals. Children naked in the river received slight
relief as the water ran warm and gentle as a baby's bath. Even
lovers turned back to back when night fell.
The sun beat mercilessly on the kingdom day after
endless day and word spread among the subjects that the king was
cranky, tense, sweaty and mean.
That's why Jahbar was dumbfounded at the sight of the
gilded litter approaching the royal kennel. He stood watching,
his chin dropped, as the carriers lowered the litter from their
sweat drenched shoulders to the dusty ground.
The king stepped from the litter and was followed
closely by a pair of nearly naked fan bearers. The fans were
made from long white feathers, the likes of which Jahbar had
never seen.
"Fan. Fan," the king yelled, "I hate this heat. Keep
the air moving or die."
The men fanned with an energy that caused the muscles
in their thick arms to ripple.
"Boy - fetch my dogs," the king yelled as he clouted
Jahbar on the shoulder.
Jahbar loosened the roots from his feet and ran into
the shade of the kennel,
"The king," he yelled to Marcus who was pulling a cart
of meat scraps from cubicle to cubicle.
Marcus turned to Jahbar, "The king," he said?
"He's outside . . . wants to see his dogs."
Jahbar's eyes were wide white circles around chocolate
brown centers,
"Aren't all the dogs his?"
Marcus wrinkled his brow, "Yes," he said.
"Which ones do I take him," Jahbar looked from cubicle to
cubicle and bounced on his toes in his eagerness to do the
king's bidding correctly.
"Find Argoni," Marcus said, "ask him."
Jahbar nodded and ran up the kennel aisle sticking his
head into each cubicle calling Argoni's name. His voice broke
the stillness of the hot kennel air and the dogs barked
synchronously.
"What's the racket," Argoni shouted, "quiet dogs."
He stuck his head out from a cubicle halfway down the
aisle. Jahbar's face lit at the sight of him and he ran to the
door.
"The king. The king," he shouted.
"What about the king?" Argoni asked.
His kindly face lowered slightly and a crease appeared
in his forehead.
"He's here," Jahbar said, "He's sent me to fetch his
dogs."
Jahbar sucked in a great gasp of hot air, "And I don't
know which ones to fetch."
"Calm yourself, boy," said Argoni patting Jahbar's
shoulder, "He'll be wanting Sirius and Isis."
The old man frowned, "The heat has melted his brain.
He'll be wanting a dog race to distract himself."
Argoni wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his
broad, hairy hand.
"Run back and tell him I'm coming."
Sweat beaded on Jahbar's lip and trickled down his
bare brown back as he hurried to the king. The king paced beside
his litter, the fanners fanned furiously stepping carefully to
avoid bumping into him.
"I'm perspiring," he yelled, "fan."
His slippers sent up dusty plumes as he paced and his
attendants fanned faster. Jabbar skidded to a stop before him.
"Well," he said?
Jahbar gulped air and sputtered, "Argoni's coming with
your dogs."
"I told YOU to fetch the dogs," the king looked
fiercely at Jahbar, "I see no dogs."
He lifted his fist and struck Jahbar below the ear,
knocking him to the dusty ground. He prepared to strike Jahbar
again just as Argoni stepped from the kennel, two blue-grey
whippets straining at their leashes, pulling him along.
"Sire," he called, "I have your dogs."
The king's blow fell on Jahbar's back without much
force as he turned his attention to Argoni.
"Past time enough," he said, chopping his words off. He
circled Argoni and the dogs, appraising them.
"Pose," Argoni said softly and the dogs stretched
their narrow bodies back from muscular haunches and poked their
heads forward to achieve their maximum length.
"Are they ready to run," the king asked?
"Yes, Sire," Argoni said, not meeting the king's eyes,
"the heat will slow them down, but they are ready to run."
"Show me," the king commanded.
He stepped back from the dogs catching one of the
fanners by surprise and causing him to stumble, brush his fan on
the ground.
"Fool," the king shouted, "I hate this heat. Cool me."
Jahbar heard Sirius growl deep in her throat. Argoni
smoothed the dogs' hackles with his hands as he unhooked their
leashes.
Argoni pushed his tongue against the back of his teeth
and gave a sharp whistle. The whippets shot like spears launched
by the heartiest warrior and ran full out till Argoni whistled a
second time. They rounded their paths and shot back towards the
kennel master, running past him, circling again and returning to
his side. Long pink tongues hung from their mouths and their
chests heaved as they cooled themselves from the exertion and
the sun.
Argoni fell to his knees and ran a wide hand over each
dog's head murmuring, "Good girls, good girls."
"Fat and slow," the king yelled, "fat and slow."
"Pose," Argoni said softly just as the king cuffed him
on the shoulder.
"The race will be tomorrow. Have the dogs ready," the
king commanded.
He put a slippered foot to Argoni's head, straightened
his knee and pushed the old man off balance onto the parched
ground.
"Pose," Argoni said again. The dogs didn't move.
The king stomped to his litter and stepped aboard. The
litter carriers hoisted poles to their shoulders and left the
kennel grounds at a brisk trot. The fan men kept pace on either
side of the litter fanning as they ran.
Jahbar rushed to Argoni, "Are you hurt?"
"No boy, I'm not hurt."
He hoisted himself from the ground and led the dogs
into the shade of the kennel roof.
"The dogs need to eat and rest in preparation for a
race in this heat. Help Marcus see to their food and water and
put them in new straw for the night."
Jahbar ran to do Argoni's bidding.
The old man spoke softly to the dogs as he led them to
their cubicle. He sat with them, rubbing their limbs with
alcohol and water to refresh them. He apologized for calling on
them to work in the heat and when they'd eaten and their straw
had been renewed, he lay down with them to sleep.
The day of the race dawned even hotter than the ones
that had gone before. Argoni took Jahbar to assist him when he
led the dogs to the race site. The king was ensconced in the
shade of a tree, its leaves browning from the heat. His fanner
stood nearby working furiously to cool him.
Betting was heavy among members of the king's party
and the dogs had to wait in the sun while preparations for the
race were completed. Argoni soothed them with his voice and with
his kindly hands. His plump face reddened and sweat beaded on
his forehead. He let the dogs lick small amounts of water he
dipped from Jahbar's bucket.
Finally the king sent a messenger who told Argoni the
race would be three miles out and three miles back.
"No," Argoni said, "tell the king I said one mile - no
more."
The messenger's eyes went wide, he shook his head and
turned back towards the king and his company. Argoni followed.
"One mile, Sire. That's all," Argoni said to the king.
The king cocked his head to one side, closed one eye
and squinted with the other at the old man, "One mile?"
"Any farther might kill them in this heat."
"Agreed," said the king, wiping a hand across his
brow, "I hate this heat."
"You look hot yourself, Argoni," the king said, "I
insist you start the race from here in the shade."
"But the dogs, Sire . . ."
"Your assistant is doing fine with the dogs."
The king smiled. His guests nodded agreement.
"You can see the mile marker better from here and you
can whistle the dogs back at just the right moment. I insist."
Argoni nodded hesitantly.
"Start the race," the king commanded.
Argoni signalled Jahbar to stand back from the dogs.
Then he gave his sharp whistle and the dogs shot off. The moment
they were off, the king clouted Argoni on the head. The old man
fell to the ground, dead.
Since there was no one to call the end of the race,
Sirius and Isis ran till they ended up in the heavens. Every
year the curse of the abominable heat returns when they are
visible - running still -waiting for Argoni to whistle them back
. . . and those are the dog days of summer.
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