Blue goes out for her final ablution of the night. She meets both her needs and as she rises from the second, I expect to see her scrape her paws backwards based on some primeval memory of covering the scent. But tonight she is just not in the mood to succumb to that primitive urge. So she scrapes her right back foot only. One scrape through the mud and then her leg freezes in a pose, as straight back and away from her body as her old age can manage. She holds the pose for a second, disdain for such an archaic ritual written all over her face, and then she trots in.
Would that the world was as smart and would occasionally show its archaic rituals the disdain they deserves.