The Straggler: Too Darn Hot

ON the indoor-outdoor thermometer attached to our bedroom window, the “outdoor” column is climbing up through the high 90s at 10 A.M. In the street there is no sign of life. Even the usual landscaping crews have apparently taken the day off. Front lawns bake under the kind of sky novelists call “brassy.” The thermometer’s “indoor” column registers a pleasant 77 degrees, thanks-heartfelt thanks-to a central-air-conditioning system, our family budget-buster the year before last. My tame, pampered children refuse to step outside except to go to a pool. We don’t have one (that may be the year after next’s budget-buster), and neither of the two neighboring families that does have a pool is at home. Only the dog shows any enthusiasm for outdoors: He whines for his daily walk.

Dutifully I fetch the leash and we set off. The dog is a long-haired variety and due for a grooming. I wonder how he will bear up in the heat. Our normal walk is a mile and three-quarters. Reminding myself of that continental quip about the “three indifferences” of the English (to food, sex, and the weather), I determine to cover the whole customary distance, defying the heat. As a precaution on the dog’s behalf, I take a bottle of water to splash on him if he seems to be in distress.

About the Author

John Derbyshire

Mr. Derbyshire is a former contributing editor of National Review.

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ON the indoor-outdoor thermometer attached to our bedroom window, the “outdoor” column is climbing up through the high 90s at 10 A.M. In the street there is no sign of life. Even the usual landscaping crews have apparently taken the day off. Front lawns bake under the kind of sky novelists call “brassy.” The thermometer’s “indoor” column registers a pleasant 77 degrees, thanks-heartfelt thanks-to a central-air-conditioning system, our family budget-buster the year before last. My tame, pampered children refuse to step outside except to go to a pool. We don’t have one (that may be the year after next’s budget-buster), and neither of the two neighboring families that does have a pool is at home. Only the dog shows any enthusiasm for outdoors: He whines for his daily walk.

Dutifully I fetch the leash and we set off. The dog is a long-haired variety and due for a grooming. I wonder how he will bear up in the heat. Our normal walk is a mile and three-quarters. Reminding myself of that continental quip about the “three indifferences” of the English (to food, sex, and the weather), I determine to cover the whole customary distance, defying the heat. As a precaution on the dog’s behalf, I take a bottle of water to splash on him if he seems to be in distress.