Superstition

As a Man of Science in the 21st century, I scoff at superstition. The whole Friday the 13th, knock on wood, toss the salt over the shoulder. "geshundheit" after sneezing thing just doesn't fit in to our modern digital age. I've had good Friday the 13ths. Those evil spirits don't rise and smite me if I fail to knock on wood, toss salt, or say "gesundheit".

There is one superstition that never fails though. Any morning that begins with dog vomit on the floor is bound to be a bad one. Cleaning up canine barf is always the precursor to a dreadful day. My first sight this morning was a pile of semi-digested kibble alongside an apologetic-looking dog. October 12, 2010 will not end well.

I wonder if Napoleon's dog barfed on the morning of Waterloo. "He's just nervous about the upcoming battle, Emperor. Let's get at that Wellington." Did Captain Smith's dog on the Titanic spew chunks on that fateful day? "Ar-r-rh, don't worry about it Captain. The pooch is just a little seasick. Those icebergs shouldn't be a problem either." Did Archduke Francis Ferdinand's pet canine vomit before that fateful car ride? "It's that Sarjevo kibble getting to him, sire. Let's take down the top and roll down the windows on the royal car to air it out. The people will get a better look at you this way."

History would have changed if people had heeded the warnings of their pets. I'm taking no chances. Not only will I spend today in the safety in my bed, I'm hiding under it.