Unfinished Project [Part Two] Getting There.

went to bed friday night, couple of bottles of red, mr's b cooking up a nice vegetarian feast, flick through a couple of chapters of don lett's biography and night, night everybody, mr's b wakes me up at stupid 'o clock, 'can you hear that?', 'no, go to sleep',' can't you hear that?, sound's like a fox', the boy's start to chunter, low, growling at first, their not happy, i try to ignore them, their having none of it, i go down and let them out, half-past-two and they are in full-on terrier, kill, die, bastard, fuck-you, you are dead when we get hold of you mode, i'm trying to shush them up and i'm strutting around the back yard, stark bollock naked shouting at them to be quiet, [but making more noise than both of them], the rest of the night passes fitfully, my boy's growling, full-on barking, launching themselves at the back-door, i 've had enough by 0600 hours and get up to make a brew, both my dog's have that look in their eye's, i open the back door and they tear off down the garden, i catch a glimpse of the staffordshire bull terrier out of the corner of  my eye, i can't believe it at first, shit, he's a big old boy, i shout mr's b and she get's our boy's in the house, i call the staffy and he come's to me straight away, he's a big old boy, i notice straight away he has no collar, he's skinny, his rib's are sticking through his fur, mr's b bring's him out a couple of pouches of food and some dry dog food that he wolf's down, he's de-hydrated and finishes off a couple of bowls of water, i have a closer look at him, i reckon he's around two years old, he's got a big lump on his nose and loads of scarring on his face, i reckon some scum bag has had him for a fighting dog, he's as soft as shift and responds to kindness, i introduce him to my boy's and they are not feeling the love, ted, [who is probably the softest dog in the world] is curling his lip and giving it large, gus wag's his tail to suck him in and then nail's him big-style, i pull him off and mr's b takes my boy's home, i take the staffy next-door-but-one to my mum and we sit in the garden trying to decide what to do, we phone the police and they don't want to know, we eventually get the number for the out of hours dog warden, they scan him for a microchip and surpise, surprise, the mobile number is wrong and the land-line won't accept incoming call's, mr's b and my ma take him down to the kennel, they insist that he will be well cared for and that he won't be put down, i admit it, it's broken my heart, i feel that he came to me and i've let him down, i've shed a few........