The last raincoat

"And that makes ten," Raymond muttered. He raised the collar of his coat in a vain effort to ward off the bitter southerly. Straight from Antarctica that one was, with no stopover in Tahiti on the way. Something was grabbing at his ankles. He looked down and saw a small dog with floppy ears. One ear was scored with scars (he liked the alliteration - well someone has to).

"Tough life for you," he said as pleasantly has his naturally leering features would allow. He bent over to pat the dog on its head, receiving a nip at the base of his thumb for his pains.

"You didn't have to do that!" Raymond was almost sure that the response from the dog was a "Yerright," but at that moment he forgot all about it...