So this evening George is sitting on the front step; I'm in the study keeping an occasional eye on him. (Can one have an occasional eye?) It's getting dark and suddenly I notice he's not there. I leap up and peer out of the window.
George is pooing but my sudden movement makes him turn his head and look at me. When he's finished I call him in and as he comes through the door he is muttering, 'Isn't a dog allowed to poo in peace these days?'
'Huh!' I say, 'You know what it will be though: poo today, gone tomorrow.'
I fall about laughing at my own 'joke'. It's a good job I make myself laugh; I don't make anybody else.