It was a jet-blue broiling summer morning. So hot, even the flies seemed to be lazy and wallowed in the sunshine reflected off the windowpane.

My brother and I, under the supervision of our dog Lappa, were soaking in our pond to avoid the sweltering heat.

It was the peak season of “blue” color: the lapis-lazuli lupines and blue flag irises were in full bloom. The sky, reflected in the water, was cobalt, enhancing a cyan colored inflatable sea-lion, Dolphy, on which my brother was sprawled.

Even the tormenting heat rarely gets our St. Bernard Lappa into the water on his own. When he swims, he looks like a half-submerged tank, ochre in color. Gulping berry-blue pond water on his way, he cools off, gets out, and shakes crystal-clear droplets on everyone and everything.

Nothing too exciting about that phenomena, right? Wrong. For a joyful six year old, it is pure euphoria to be dragged into the water hanging onto the tail of a dog. So I devised something to cajole Lappa to submerge himself.

The latter might seem a bit strange activity, so let me explain. Lappa entertains himself by catching frogs. The dog would sneak up onto an unsuspecting “client”, grab it in his mouth, and gently put the bedraggled creature back into the celestial-blue water.