The stick! My human is opening the WING STICK!
I love the wing stick. It goes SHOMP and grows a big black wing over my human's head and my human becomes the biggest thing in the whole world, a walking roof, a person-cloud, MY person-cloud. The sky is doing the wet thing. I love the wet thing! Everything smells LOUDER when it's wet. The sidewalk smells like a thousand feet. That bush smells like a HUNDRED squirrels. THE BEST.
But my human does not want the wet thing. My human ducks under the wing and makes a happy sound and stays dry, and if my human is happy then I am happy, I am the happiest, I have never been this happy.
Here is the thing though. The wing only covers ONE. It covers my human. It does not cover me. I am out here in the drips getting the most wonderful and terrible and cold and GLORIOUS, and my human keeps pulling the wing over toward me, tilting it, getting its own shoulder wet so my ears stay dry.
My human got wet. For me. On purpose.
I don't understand. I will never understand. I only know my human would rather be soaked than let one drop land on my dumb good head, and I would follow this person into ANY weather, any wet thing, forever.
The wing is going back down now. SHOMP. We are home! There is a towel! And after the towel, I am almost completely sure, there is a treat.