The bad-luck black dog dogged Roby’s steps. Blood, sweat and rain. Nothing to be done. Until he found out the dog’s name was Reg.
The chocolate Labrador looked out of the white van window, his pork pie hat tilted forward over one ear. “Left hand down a bit, mate”, he growled, flicking the butt of the very thin roll-up into the gutter. “Just park here. Let’s go. Let’s do it.”