A Grand Day Out

Sometimes I scratch the door to Go Out and Pee.

Often, especially following meals, it's to Go Out and Poop.

Occasionally, it's for what I refer to as the Grand Pottée: A Pee, followed by a Poop, capped off with yet another Pee.

She always feels compelled to offer instruction as I depart.

"Go Out and Poop," She says helpfully, as if I need guidance on this, the most basic of bodily functions.

But on bright and glorious days like today -- I, Gromit Dog -- scratch the door for something else: To Go Out and Sun Myself on the Deck.

She loves it when I do this. She told He it's a sign of my Superior Intellect.

Meh.

As if any celebretard doesn't appreciate the simple act of sunbathing.

Still.

She didn't quite understand the appeal, as She prefers the chaise lounge.

Until today.

Sprawled on the deck in my usual spot by the impatiens-filled pottery, basking in the glory of a decidedly perfect late-autumn day, suddenly She's next to me.

On the deck. On her back. Smiling. And sighing.

"Now I understand," She says. "The wood is wonderfully warm. It feels good."

She snaps a photo to commemorate the occasion.

Superior intellect, my fuzzy little ass.

But She'll get there eventually.
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I am listening to: Animal Planet
I am reading: Investigations of a Dog by Franz Kafka
And I am: One Smart Puppy