"It's for you." I gathered the waistcoat I was working on into one hand, squeezed the receiver between ear and shoulder, and held the garment up for inspection.

"Hello?"

"It's Ken. Hey listen I've got a surprise for you."

"What?" I lowered the waistcoat, my curiosity aroused.

"I'm not telling you, I told you it's a surprise, but you'll have to come home now." Oh God, I thought, what's he up to now?

"Can't it wait? I'm in the middle of an order."

"No it can't, but don't worry you're gonna like it, only I thought I'd better prepare you because… well… because you'll have to look after it," he finished giving it away. It sounded awfully like another lame duck episode; he was always bringing home injured animals, and guess who always ended up looking after them – not that I really minded, in fact I was a sucker for sad-eyed creatures needing looking after – perhaps that's why I liked Ken.

"Ok, see you in five." I replaced the receiver, threw the waistcoat on to a pile of half finished garments and reached for my coat.

"Larry! I'm off now, see you tomorrow." I heard a muffled reply somewhere beneath a pile of leather and shoes, and took it to be goodbye. The bell jangled as I closed the door.

It was an old style shop in the dusty part of town where Larry hand-made shoes and earned a modest living. I rented a room to make leather clothing and gave him a percentage of the sales. It worked well and the two businesses complimented each other.

I got in my car, started it up and as I pulled out of the car park and into the traffic, I contemplated on the nature of the being awaiting my arrival; a bird with a broken wing; a hamster with mange; or even a mouse with piles wouldn't be missed by Ken. I parked the car, grabbed my bag and got out, entered the house and threw my coat on the hook.

"Where is it then?"

Ken, grinning like the proverbial Cheshire cat, was stood in front of an old cardboard box containing an old dust sheet, and on this meagre bed was the cutest, dearest, and most pathetic and sad-eyed puppy I'd ever seen.

"Oh! Look at him, aah isn't he gorgeous, oh the poor thing…aah!" Obviously I could be just as pathetic.

"He got run over." Ken's bottom lip pouted briefly.

"Someone threw him out of a farm truck on the motorway." He went on warming to the story.

"The car following ran him over… he couldn't avoid him!" He added the last bit when he caught my look.

"I stopped to pick him up, thought he was dead but he wasn't." Pleased now that the part he played was that of the rescuer.

"Is he badly hurt?" I looked up at him enquiringly.

"Well, I took him to the vet and there are no broken bones." He peered over.

"He's a bit bruised and has road rash on his knees and elbows." He frowned trying to remember all the details.

"He says he's only about six weeks old, but he can't walk 'cos the car ran over his back end." Ken stood up.

"How can anyone be so cruel?" I said.

"Farmer's dog I suspect." Ken replied matter of fact.

"Too many pups to keep… Have we got any food and stuff for him?" He was practical now, initial concern becoming down-to-earth care.

"I'll go and get provisions," he was patting his pockets looking for something.

"I won't be long." He went out of the door then popped his head back round.

"He's good isn't he, we can keep him?"

"Of course we're keeping him, good grief we can't abandon him after the trauma he's been through!" I said knowing he knew I would.

"Great." He rummaged in the hallway for a minute before calling out.

"Have you seen my keys?"

"No!"

"They're usually in my pocket."

"Well they're probably still there then."

"No they're not – someone's nicked 'em."

Sighing I wandered into the hall.

"Have you looked in you pockets?"

"Yes of course I have."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!"

"What are these then?" I held up the elusive articles.

"Hey brilliant, where did you find them?"

"In your pocket."

He smiled unabashed, held out his hand for them and immediately forgot the incident. This happened most days and used to infuriate me, but now was just endearing. I went back to the puppy when a thought struck me,

"What are you taking the car for? It's only down the road, not a great distance!" I shouted.

I heard a muted "It is if you're an ant," then louder "I'll see you in a minute." The door banged shut.

I replaced the dust sheet Ken had found in the garage, with a nice soft blanket and placed the puppy on it; his eyes looked grateful, but were still mistrustful. I stayed there stroking him, trying to calm his trembling body, until I heard the door again.

"Hiya, I'm back." Ken dumped a bag on the table and started to remove things one by one.

"I got tins of meat, biscuits, some bright orange bowls.…" he frowned as he had to dig deeper, "Some worm tablets, flea spray, dog shampoo…"

"Oh good," I said "he does smell a bit."

"…and, a squeaky rubber toy." He held it out triumphantly and squeaked it in demonstration. The puppy's ears pricked up at the sound and a little wag made itself noticeable which brought forth 'oohs' and 'aahs' from us.

"What are we going to call him? I asked suddenly.

"Let's call him Lucky cos he was." Ken decided.

"Oh that's not at all cliché is it?" I groaned sarcastically, "I mean I'll bet there aren't many collies called Lucky are there… and we're not calling him Lassie either!" I added seeing another inspirational light come to his eyes, as the sarcasm missed its mark. He shrugged, "You choose then, I got him for you." That was that, he'd thought of two names, so now it was well and truly in my court.

I sighed and gave up, what with a black cat called 'Sooty', another called 'Kitty' and a hamster called 'Hammy', Lucky was actually infinitely better than 'Puppy' or 'Collie' for the rest of his life. Of course, I'd given all the animals proper names, but Ken never used them. He said he forgot them, or they were too difficult to pronounce. I don't expect the puppy really cared what he was called anyway.

"I hope it doesn't shorten his life." I mused.

"What?" Ken was playing with the toy.

"The injuries he's got, I mean dogs only live about fourteen years, that's not really a long time when you think about it."

"It is if you're waiting for a bus." He said seriously. I threw a cushion at him.

"He'll be fine," Ken assured me, "In fact, because I saved his life, he'll repay us one day." He looked at me, "You wait and see!"