[Editor’s Note: In which we discuss “Poop Patrol,” i.e., the periodic need to gather Lewis’ excremental offerings.]

“How often to you make a deposit, so to speak? I went out a couple of weeks ago, just a few days after She With Whom You Abide went out and there must have been 3 dozen piles: are a three-or-four-times-a-day dog?”

—You know the old saying: Clean bowels, happy dog.

“I know no such saying: it must be a part of dog lore.”

—Regardless, it is true.

“But I swear more is coming out than goes in. It’s like alchemy or something.”

—Alchemy?

“Forget it, it would take too long to explain. But face it, you’re basically a crap machine.”

—And you’re a crap gatherer.

“Touché.”