It's that bit at the end where you see he's made himself a nice little dinner with proper vegetables on a real plate and a nice glass of wine just for himself that does it for me. I mean, most evenings I can barely bring myself to get the pop tart into the toaster, and I'm not even bereaved.

There's a similar program in SC, where retired racing greyhounds are fostered with inmates to help the dogs transition to the life of a "normal" pet before they are adopted out:

http://www.gpa-sc.com/prison-foster-…

I wonder how many of the necks of his high-powered male colleagues he has "held repeatedly while trying to emphasise [his] point"?