I open the front door, returning from Spanish class and a trip to the post, and immediately spot a banana peel and some plastic wrapping that once contained a wedge of cured goat cheese on the lounge carpet. The Beeb man sits in the middle of the mess, clearly guilty of trash-picking, but his immense glee at my arrival overwhelms him, and as he always does, looks for his prized toy to present to me as his sort of offering. Unable to immediately locate the desired object, he picks up what to him seems like a comparable substitute, an empty packet of Whiskas kitty food, and sits before me, wagging his tail.
The precious Boo, who is lying in her usual spot on the staircase landing, looks away, clearly embarrassed for the little guy.
I ask the Beeb man to drop the packet, which he does, and then remind him how we are not supposed to eat the trash, and send him "to his chair". He slopes off obediently, realizing he probably could have played the scene a bit better, a bit "cooler", but he puts on the sad, guilty face with the soulful, faraway eyes anyway. I gather up the bits of basura and desperately try to hide my laughing eyes and wish that my camera wasn't upstairs in the office.....