It wasn't clear which doberman was our guy...

Donation from Ted Perkins:

It wasn't clear which doberman was our guy. They shared the same rueful expression. One had a wet nose - the other dry. A clue?

That was the trouble with these dogs, they looked too damn similar. Those bat-like ears jutting up to heaven and the posture of a teacher's pet straining to give the right answer. Not to mention the penetrating stare that gave the impression they were thinking about making your throat their next plaything. He stood there staring at them. They stared straight back.

Not wanting to turn away in case they took it as an open invitation to make merry he crouched down to the crumpled paper bag at his feet and pulled out a blue rubber ball with a handle attached. He had been assured it was Ace's favourite. He straightened, the ball cupped in his hand. He had their attention. Both of them. He slowly rolled it from palm to palm attempting to read them and their following gazes. Roll... roll... roll... roll... roll. They were like coiled springs waiting for the second the ball might be thrown. They were mirror images of each other. Except for those noses. But what did a wet nose mean? Or a dry one?

Maybe the ball was a mistake. All dogs respond to a ball.

He heard a door inside the building slam. The dogs' ears pricked, their muscles rippled, they were eager to know what was going on in there. But they also wanted to know what was going to happen with that ball. It had stilled in his hands. His body was equally primed with tension. He was right out in the open if anyone came.

All was quiet inside. The dogs became wholly focused but the ball wasn't moving. He was frozen to the spot and felt fear shoot down his fingertips as he saw the dogs rise to meet him. His inactivity had lost him the upper hand. They weren't waiting for the ball to be thrown anymore.

They padded up to him, noses like vacuums, processing the clues he was emanating. He was giving off cigarettes, bleach, nachos and car air freshener. Apparently one of the dogs liked Mexican. His tongue lolled out and lapped his hand. He thought he was going to be sick. The one with the wet nose was definitely interested though. In between licking his hand his nose was going overtime. The little stubby tail started to move hesitantly as he recognised familiar smells on the man.

With relief he felt his heart start to beat heavily, he'd been holding his breath with the tension of the moment, trying to keep his heart from beating. That had to be Ace.

Now how the hell was he going to get him and the dog out of here? He'd shimmied over the wall to get in so that wasn't an option for their escape. Lord knows where Charlie had got to.