Today’s word of the day, thanks again to The Dictionary Project, is alloy. Alloy can be a noun or a verb. As a noun, it means “a substance composed of two or more metals, or of a metal or metals with a nonmetal, intimately mixed, as by fusion or electrodeposition,” or “a less costly metal mixed with a more valuable one,” or “admixture, as of good with evil,” or “anything added that serves to reduce quality or purity” (https://www.dictionary.com/browse/alloy), or “the degree of mixture with base metals” (https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/alloy). As a verb, it means “to mix (metals or metal with nonmetal) so as to form an alloy,” or “to reduce in value by an admixture of a less costly metal,” or “to debase, impair, or reduce by admixture; adulterate” (https://www.dictionary.com/browse/alloy).

The noun entered the language in the “early 14c. ‘relative freedom of a noble metal from alloy or other impurities,’ from Anglo-French alai, Old French aloi ‘alloy,’ from aloiier (see alloy (v.)). The meaning ‘base metal alloyed with a noble metal’ is from c. 1400. The modern spelling from late 17c. The meaning ‘any mixture of metals,’ without reference to values, is from 1827” (https://www.etymonline.com/search?q=alloy). The verb entered the language “c. 1400, ‘mix (a metal) with a baser metal,’ from Old French aloiier, aliier ‘assemble, join,’ from Latin alligare ‘bind to, tie to,’ from ad ‘to’ (see ad-) + ligare ‘to bind, bind one thing to another, tie’ (from PIE root *leig- ‘to tie, bind’). In figurative use often implying debasement or reduction. The meaning ‘mix any two metals’ without reference to values is from 1822” (ibid.). The –d on the Latin ad– is lost to assimilation. The Indo-European root *leig- gives us a variety of words, including ligature, league, liaison, ligament, oblige, and even religion.

Like many words in English that can be used either as a noun or as a verb, alloy has two different pronunciations. The noun is pronounced with stress on the first syllable: /ˈæl ɔɪ/. The verb is pronounced with the stress on the second syllable: /əˈlɔɪ/. And when the first syllable is unstressed, the vowel sound goes from æ (as in cat) to ə (as in duh).

I’ve been visiting with my daughter and her four children, and something a little traumatic happened today. We were all in the house, except my son-in-law who is away on a guys’ weekend, when all of a sudden two of her dogs, the two boys, took off out the doggie door to the backyard. We heard a cacophony of barking in a corner of the yard, the corner nearest to the dining area in their house. We looked up, and the boys were leaping back and forth by the fence. Then we saw the squirrel. It was on the fence, racing back and forth in an obvious panic.

Now, I’ve had dogs most of my life. Growing up, my family always had a Kerry Blue Terrier, usually named Mike. Terriers are generally barky little dogs, but Kerry Blues are medium size, with a deeper bark, and hair that covers the eyes. But like other terriers, they can be a bit excitable. My dad could go to the sliding glass doors that led onto the backyard of our house and just say, “Squirrels,” and Mike would come running and barking. But I never saw any of the Mikes actually catch a squirrel.

My other daughters have dogs as well, and when they go out for their morning constitutionals, they always chase a squirrel. You’d think the neighborhood squirrels would have learned not to come into the backyard. But I’ve never seen Honey or Maisie or Bella actually catch a squirrel.

But Moose and Panda showed me something I’ve not seen before in my 67 years. They caught the squirrel. And killed it. And started to proudly bring it to the house to show us.

Now, I have to say that this particular squirrel seemed a bit stupid to us. It could have jumped off the fence to the outside, and the dogs would have had no chance. I guess that’s why we thought it was in “an obvious panic.” It kept going back and forth atop the fence. Perhaps it was looking for a chance to jump to the nearby tree, which is in my daughter’s backyard. I suppose it did not understand fences, but then I shouldn’t be surprised because it seems that a lot of people do not understand fences. Whatever the case, the squirrel’s panic or stupidity or lack of understanding cost it its life.

I ran (as best I could) outside to try to intervene, but I was too late. Panda was carrying the now-deceased squirrel to me as if it were a tennis ball to be thrown again. I commanded him to drop the squirrel, which he did, and to go inside, which he also did with his brother. Then I picked up the squirrel with a yard tool and moved it out of further danger.

My granddaughters, the older ones, were very upset. They cried some. They yelled at Panda, who got more of the blame because, I suppose, he was the one carrying the squirrel even though both dogs participated in the hunt. They told Panda that they hated him.

After a while, I called the girls to me. I pointed out that dogs are, like just a handful of other species, domesticated animals, which means we can turn them into pets. Indeed, some have written about how dogs and humans share a unique co-evolution (https://www.discovermagazine.com/the-sciences/dogs-have-co-evolved-with-humans-like-no-other-species). But dogs are still dogs. And one of the things dogs do is hunt.

I asked them how they would feel if Panda had caught a rat in the backyard instead of a squirrel. The oldest said that rats are gross. I asked how they would feel if the dogs had killed an armadillo (yes, there are armadillos around here). Or a possum. Possums are, apparently, also gross to my granddaughters, though I have read that the ugly little beasts are actually good for the backyard. I pointed out to them that squirrels are, like rats and mice, rodents, and that to the dogs, a rodent is a rodent is a rodent. No dog has ever articulated to me the differences between squirrels and chipmunks, on the one hand, and rats and mice, on the other.

More than any other creature, dogs are an alloy, something between a wolf and a child, somewhere between wild and fully domesticated. Then again, so are people.

Today’s image is of Moose and Panda, running back to me. I think it is Panda who has the tennis ball in his mouth. They love chasing tennis balls, but I can do it for only a few minutes with them because they don’t know when to stop. They’ll chase until they throw up. Good thing I’m the one in charge.