I knew a man named Neil whose friend was called "The Dog God". I never knew what made the Dog God so divine to canines. I do know that he wrapped Neil up on bumper stickers, so that Neil hopped around like some adhesive-stickered mummy. Neil eventually joined the Peace Corps, to teach the COBOL computer language to the indigenous peoples. I wrote his recommendation, which was glowing. I omitted a few idiosyncracies Neil had. I figure we all need the omission of a few idiosyncratic traits. Sadly, the Peace Corps was not Neil's final destination. I am not sure what he destination ultimately became.
I did not know Arthur very well. He was a local celebrity. He was the Dancing Razorback. At football games, he wore a red suit with a big hog's head. He danced. This amounted to a form of fame. Everyone knew Arthur. They passed him on the street, and said "Hi, Arthur!". He seemed to dance and weave as he negotiated the street.
I remember standing on the high-dive board in Prescott, Arkansas, during swimming lessons when I was six. It was so high! The water was so far! It was so hard to jump. I jumped, though, because if I did so, my mother would stop by the Esso station and get game pieces for the latest Esso Tiger sweepstakes. This was all before penguins got oil slicked by Exxon freighters, but instead we just DDT'ed every bird in sight.
I know that splash well, even years later. That high-velocity, that I-jumped-in splash, that I dared and did splash. I don't take those long leaps often anymore, but I know that splash.