In a tale, when death arrives as a dog, it must be spooky season
There is perhaps no better time to discuss the folklore of dogs as harbingers of death than the weekend before Halloween.
It was a high school English teacher, Mrs. Rutha Mims, who gave me an appreciation of folklore. A natural curiosity about the sea and animals both led me to begin reading and collecting books on the subject over the last 50 years. Our tales today take us to the Atlantic countries of Scotland, Ireland and Wales.
There are some commonalities among folklore when it comes to people seeing scary things. Often, it’s when finished working, drinking or both that survivors of the visions report what they saw. Soon others come forward and say, “Yeah, I saw it, too, even before that guy did.”
Extreme conformation seems to always tag along, such as the alleged size of Bigfoot. Along those same lines the creatures are often dirty and unkempt. Next comes color. Yep, creepy greens or yellows signify death as does black or dark brown or whatever color scares the person and the people who listen to their tale.
Oh, and smell, too. Most often scary things smell unlike anything as bad that people have smelled before. And they make otherworldly, foreshadowing noises.
Consider than, Cu Sith, a hound of Scottish folklore. In Irish folklore it is called Cu Sidhe and the Welsh call it Cwn Annwn. Please don’t ask how to pronounce these names.
Let’s check the boxes. Size? Huge, with paws making prints the size of a man’s hands. One sighting says it is the size of a small cow.
Color? Black at first, but then what we would call zombie green today. Oh, and it seemed to glow.
It was discovered late one night on a long walk home in either the Scottish Highlands or a sandy shoreline. Take your pick. Discovery was made by a man (in each country separately), whose name is certainly lost to time.
Laying out on a sandbank, the dog seemed wet with saltwater. Who tasted it? Our observer/survivor was so unnerved by the size of the beast, he cast his eyes elsewhere and hurried on his way, perhaps to the next nearest pub.
Green is “generally connected with bad fortune and also the color most commonly associated with the fae, magic, and the supernatural,” explained Mark Norman, in his book “Black Dog Folklore.”
Beyond that, the tales say the dog’s bark is so loud it can be heard far out to sea, yet it can seemingly hunt in dead silence. The person hearing it bark must quickly get away from the sound before the third bark lest they fall dead from fright. Now how does one get far enough away from this loud barking which can be heard for miles?
Forgetting the sea for a bit, there is a mountain in Scotland that also carries its share of folklore. At some 3,500 feet, Schiehallion, or Sidh Chailleann, is the site of many reported sightings of the dreaded Cù Sith. Shaped a lot like Steptoe Butte in Whitman County, one can only imagine all the tales originating there including one that says the dreaded pooches live in rocky caves.
Sometime in the sixth century or so Christianity came along, and big scary dogs didn’t quite fit the narrative like they did in the time of faeries. So, what to do now? A quick-thinking church said, let’s make these canines the instruments of Satan himself. That lent itself to the hounds of hell framing, complete now with red, glowing eyes.
As if the gates of hell needed guarding.
Powell, of Pullman, retired as public information officer for Washington State University’s College of Veterinary Medicine in Pullman. This column reflects his thoughts and no longer represents WSU. He may be contacted at charliepowell74@gmail.com.
