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A close Escape
BOB DUKES WAS ON HIS WAY HOME from his estranged wife's flat on the far side of Mazita, an island off the East African coast. He’d called in on the off chance to collect his son's dog, Coca Cola. The bottle-shaped dachshund b***h was lolling on the front seat beside him, her tongue hanging out in the tropical heat and humidity.
When he drew up in front of his colonial style wooden house and cut the engine, his daughters, Poppy and Suze, came charging down the steps from the main building.
“Charlie, Charlie,” called Poppy. “Daddy's back.”
Cola was struggling to reach the car window, but she was too fat and her legs too short. She fell back with a gasp.
Bob's mood lightened, and he laughed, “You silly dog!”
That set Cola off yapping.
“Daddy's brought Cola back, Charl
