Lake Rodney We'll walk in the rays of a beautiful sun

The scene before him was idyllic: the birds in the trees, the sun beaming down upon a still lake, not a cloud in the sky. It was hot, just the way he liked it. And the mountain was far behind him. The only thing left to do was — COW-A-BUNGAAA! Dingo shouted as he ran headfirst towards the lakeside, his paws scrambling across the stony ground and pitter-pattering a rocky overhang as his claws connected. As he got to the edge of the overhang his hindquarters thrust down, and he was a leaping ball of golden fur, up until he went splashing with a loud plop in to the lake's depths. The water rushed over his head and he was nowhere to be seen for a good minute — the water sloshed as it consumed him — but then just as it calmed, his blunt snout popped up for air.

He had a big stupid grin on his face as he pulled himself out along the bank, his eyes taking on their usual Brock-squint while his tongue lolled out of his mouth. The water was incredibly refreshing after his perilous adventure down the mountainside. He didn't even think about shaking dry, assuming rather hastily that the bright sun would do the work for him. The boy got to his paws and rounded upon the ledge again, preparing to take off on another cannonball rush while tendrils of lake water dribbled off his wiry body.