George stole and ate some raw mushrooms the other day. He didn't notice the lamb chops I'd left out as well. That's my boy.
He is really rather good these days. No, seriously, he is. Apart from the odd food frenzy. A couple we often see walking in the woods bring their left-over bread to throw into the trees for the foxes. George has worked out their usual place - they always throw it in the same place so the foxes will know where to look - and makes a beeline for it every time we pass. Husband has to yell sternly to make him desist in his pursuit of food. The first time he did it - we didn't know though we guessed food or something no-one but George would consider edible would be involved - he was gone for ages. We'd walked on a long distance and resorted to hiding behind a tree while waiting for him to catch up. The lick-lipping he was doing when he finally found us was the real give-away.
Meanwhile the couple think it's the foxes who are devouring their offering gratefully. Husband doesn't like to disillusion them.