What goes on in a dog's head?

Mater made a bee-line to me from his spot of sun on the living room carpet.  I wondered what would prompt him to do that.  What canine thoughts were swirling around in his head?  Why the sudden urge to shake himself out of a slumber and trot over to me when I hadn't made any noise that would remind him I was in the family room.  Did he suddenly decide it was time for a scratch?  Or was he trying to replicate the Timmy/Lassie bit in which Lassie would purposely run to Timmy and Timmy would always say, "What is it, girl?  Do you want me to follow you?"  Lassie was always near the center of the plot, and I'm sure she appreciated Timmy's always being ready to drop whatever he was doing and chase after her.

Mater rammed his head into my thighs and I gave him a good scratch and decided to go back into the living room and sit in the sun with him and see if I could figure out this little domestic mystery.  And here is my hope, that he was so enjoying the warming sun on his back that he wanted to share the joy of it.  I took a kitchen chair into the living room and we both sat in the sun and relished it.  The family room was as cold as a cave cheese-makers use to store their wheels of cheese, but this spot of sun was like a sudden trip to, say, Arizona, and we both basked in the power of the sun to warm us thru and thru.

A lot can be learned from a dog, and if anyone would like to capitalize on my amazing ability to pick out a winner from your local shelter, I would be happy to oblige.  In the meantime, take a tip from Mater and sit in the sun today and banish the S-A-D phenomenon and give yourself a good dose of Vitamin D while you're at it.