That so-happy-to-see-you act is pure relief: unless he works out what cupboard the food's in, and learns to operate a can-opener, he genuinely thinks he's going to starve.
Pulling the Leatherman I carry with me everywhere from the front pocket of my bag I singled out the can-opener and locked it into place.
‘Perfect’, thought I, as I sought out the can-opener and then proceeded to eat the fishy contents with great relish.
For all I know she could sound like a cross between Diana Degarmo and an electric can-opener.
Or have you ever attempted to open a can without a can-opener?