I lived with some friends in a house rented for the summer. We had known each other for several years, having graduated from high school together. It was decided several months previous that we should have a final summer of freedom before jumping into the unpredictable currents of life. The plan was easy enough. All of us had to get jobs to be able to make the rent. The rest of our time would be entirely dedicated to pleasure.

One of the first things I did was buy a dog. Nothing could have be more impractical and short-sighted. But our first Saturday in town Frank, Warren, and I headed off to the SPCA in hopes of buying a cute little puppy. We walked into the shelter and the attendant looked up at us from his desk.

"Do you have any puppies?" I asked him.

"How young?"

"You know. Small ones. Pretty young." I cupped my hands making allusion to a general size.

"Nothing that small. Are you boys family? We have to be selective about who we give these animals to."

"Well these are just my friends, but I'm buying the dog for my family."

He gave me the same look I gave Whitewash after he told me the bamboo shoot story.

"We only have cats that small. The only dogs are out in the kennels." He pointed us back out through the door.

We walked along the kennels and witnessed the dogs in their activity that consisted of laying, standing, or sitting. All of them were panting in the sun. A shelter is the saddest place imaginable as soon as you realize that you can only save one of the dogs. The mutts looked back at us as we walked by. There was a doberman skinny to the bone and so beaten by its owners that it cowered away from any humans. Typically a fierce dog, some bastard had beaten the piss and soul out of it. I walked by it and knew that it was doomed. I came to the cage of a black dog and put my finger through the wire fencing. He came up and licked it. He cost ten dollars. We put him into the back of the car and took him home.

There was still alot of time left in the day. We headed off to a local lake where Frank's parents had small boat docked. The plan was to water ski and fish a bit and to throw the dog in the water to clean him off a bit.

The dog vomited continuously on the way over to the lake. It was a forty minute trip and the dog barfed every three. I could hardly concentrate on driving, I felt so bad for him. Warren had to crawl up to the front seat with Frank and I because of the mess. My pals chided me a bit because of this and I loved it the way we knew we had to pinch each other in order to feel alive.

The rest of the trip was one of arms crooked through open car windows and strong smells of a sunny afternoon.

"Frank, hand me a cigar" I said.

"Sure thing."

He did so, barely able to squeeze his hands between himself and Warren so he could reach into his pocket whereupon he retrieved the box of thin sweet cigars. I popped one between my lips and pushed the lighter into its spot on the dashboard. It popped back out and I lit my tobacco. My new dog again couldn't handle the smell, so vomited.

***

The lake was quiet, the water like dark emerald glass waiting to be disturbed. Our first few steps out onto the dock where Frank's boat was parked sent low frequency ripples out to meet the mountains across shore. The dog ran ahead of us and running his nose over all sorts of interesting stuff.

"Guys, it looks like we have the place to ourselves." Frank spoke with a smile on his face. The weather was working with us. Overcast and threat of showers kept them away. That was alright. It was an understood thing between us that being alone like this was best.

We got to the boat, dropped our bags, and started unsnapping the tarpaulin. All the boats around us started bobbing with our activity. Frank's boat was old and haggard compared to the newer sleek machines surrounding it. But it was a boat that could get you up on the skis as well as get you to the fish. The important things.

The tarp was off and we threw our bags in. I looked around for the dog. I spied his black figure against the side of a white boat, his hind leg up in the air and his tinkle landing all over its engine.

"Ah, jeez. Hey boy! Get over here." I yelled at him and it was enough to get his attention. He trotted over and was in the boat awaiting more action.

Warren was petting the dog. "Peter, what are going to name him?"

"I don't know. I was thinking of calling him Motor Puppy."

Frank cracked up. Backing the boat out of its spot, he looked over his shoulder and was shaking his head. "Motor Puppy? Jesus, I tell you. Sometimes I wonder about you Peter Leisure."

"Now you got my ire up! What's wrong with Motor Puppy? Sure I could call him Spot or Laddy, but they just bore me. Motor Puppy has some action."

The boat cruised out of the wake zone, and Frank increased the throttle as the front lifted up out of the water.

"Might be old but she has a V8 Mustang engine underneath." Frank touted, standing behind the wheel. I didn't know if that was good or not, but it sounded tough.

Behind us, Warren was in the cooler pulling out beers. "Now that we're out on the water, we might as well drink, right?"

I couldn't find anything wrong with that, so grabbed one from him. We all popped the caps and started drinking. Frank guided the boat around the lake for awhile then shut it down.

"Time to ski. Who's first?" Frank asked.

"Me man." Warren peeled off his sweatshirt and jumped into the water. I was glad he went. The idea of getting in the water on this day was daunting. It really was too cold to be doing this.

"When's summer going to really get here?" I asked no one in particular, but Frank knew what I was thinking.

"Stop being such a woosy. You're getting in next and we are going to get you up on ONE ski if it kills you. You been on two skis long enough."

Frank pitched the ski to Warren teeth-chattering in the water. Both of them were able to get up on one ski, a feat I had not yet accomplished. Warren stared off at the mountains as he pulled the ski on. "Ready" he said and had hold of the tow rope.

"Here we go!" Frank yelled for all creation to hear. "Watch him Peter."

Frank pushed the throttle down slowly and there came Warren rising up, out, and then on top of the water. "Damn, first try" I thought. The pressure was on. I had more beer. Warren started his acrobatics, zipping back and forth across the wake, all smiles. I could see that his lips were blue and stiff, even from twenty yards away. Still, his smile broke awkwardly through. He kept it up for some time. Then it occurred to me that he had to go down soon.

"Try the big jump!" I cupped my hands and yelled at Warren.

He nodded his head haughtily and moved slowly out of the boat's wake. There the water was motionless and untouched. He stayed there until Frank made a turn and then used that to his advantage. When Frank made the turn, Warren let the rope go slack. The boat continued on and suddenly pulled at the rope. Here came Warren heading for the wake. He was pulling with all his strength to increase his speed. Then he went across the wake. He went so high and hit it top heavy like so he was instantly in the air with his head, not ski, coming down first. His hand wisely let go of the rope. He made some kind of a moaning sound then went face first into the water with an audible smack.

"He's down!" I yelled to Frank, not taking my eyes off the little head that surfaced with blue smile between the wakes.

***

Later in the evening we had the boat anchored in a far-off corner of the lake near some slate cliffs. Three fishing lines were drifting in the water with our eyes on them ready to grab the poles if they moved. Occasionally one of us caught a rock bass which was pulled of the hook, admired and then slid back into the dark lake water... with a splash the fish was gone.

Just a hint of last light was glowing from behind the mountain. The sky had cleared and the moon was out and ready to take over his shift. I watched it glow brighter as the moments passed, laying on my back with a beer on my chest. Motor Puppy was curled away under a seat, unsure about the water.

Frank stirred the solitude with a sip from his beer can, wiping his mouth with the sweatshirt he had just put on. He was laughing.

"Oh, man Peter. You're about the funniest thing I ever seen trying to get up on one ski. You looked like a rag doll slapping all over the water. And then you fell that one time and wouldn't let go of the tow rope! What an idiot. Eee hee hee."

"Yeah well, I was so pissed off that I was determined to get back up on the skis, but really I just kept getting pulled deeper into the water. That was sort of creepy actually." I shuddered to think of the dark depths under the lake. The fabled man-size fish working their gills and moving their fish lips.

"Really was funny, but you have to give him credit" Warren came to my defense, slightly. "He did get up on one ski for a few seconds before teetering into a lake-induced enema." Warren's eyes started to tear with joy.

I slammed the rest of my beer and walked to the cooler. Frank and Warren slinked away from me for fear I might just haul off and cuff them. That would have been too easy. Words are always the best weapons. Besides either of them could have kicked my slight ass merely using the index finger of their choice.

"Warren, you know, I'm not so sure that I would talk too loudly. Seeing how you are getting married in a few weeks, I think YOU might be the one needing the cork to stem the nervous shits." Then I turned on Frank. "And you Worthner? What have you planned for your future? At least Warren's got this lovely bride digging him, but you! You just have a boat. Granted that ain't so bad, but remember this is a helluva small lake!" I turned, satisfied, away from them and waited for the volley to begin. My daily fielding of assaults from the truck drivers were taking affect on me.

A strong shove in the center of my back sent me over the edge of the boat. I came quickly to the surface and shook the water from my hair. "Who the hell?...."

Frank was standing where I had been just a second ago laughing his ass off. "Okay, that's better. Had to cool you off boy! So why don't you tell us what magic lies in the road of your future, you fuck!" Warren peeked around Frank's shoulder, jaw-dropped.

"Hey, I got a dog and a brother in Washington D.C. who can help get me a job in... well, I don't know how long, but maybe not too long..." I swam over the boat and pulled down the foot ladder. Frank gave me his hand pulled me on board.

"Why would you want to move to D.C.?" He asked this vacantly like I had made some terrible assertion, but I didn't give it much thought.

"Hey Frank, check it out" I said, not answering him, and pointed at the cliffs.

Warren's white ass pointed right back at us as it leaned over in his toil of climbing to the top. It was such a sight that I instinctively looked at the moon in the sky. I laughed a marvelous laugh, in love with this world the way it was.

"Jesus, Warren's doing a naked jump" Frank guffawed. I dropped the my last stitch of wet clothing on the floor of the boat, then dove into the cold water following Warren.