Be that as it may, I admit that I was welling up a bit over the dignity and care my ex-wife handled the final hours of poor, dead Lucy Minogue yesterday. OK, I welled up quite a lot.
Puppy was very ill in her last few days, and was at the point - on top of her blindness, deafness and creeping dementia - that she had lost continence of both bladder and bowel. But instead of taking Lucy on her final journey with matted and stinking fur, Vanessa bathed and groomed her and let her go to sleep neither smelling nor looking like a furry ball of turds. That's a gesture basic human kindness that is sadly missing in this world today, and I respect that.
And later, the former Mrs Coleman sends me this picture of the front of her local Weymouth butcher-stroke-publicity-hunter's shop:
|"Home of the Juicy Lucy Burger", for all love|