Dad - what do I do?

"Dad, what do I do?" - aren't they just words that strike fear into your heart? - especially at 3.30 in the morning which somehow seems to be the usual time for such conversations to begin. You blearily grab the phone and get half way through the conversation before you stop and ask "what time is it for goodness sake" or words to that effect.
Responses range from; "I'm at a roundabout in Milton Keynes - how do I get home?" through "I've been clamped" to this policeman said.........". Nothing quite prepared me for this little episode though - "I've found a dog" followed by a pause (or should that be paws), "a big dog". Another paws accompanied by laboured breathing and snuffling. "He's a big dog, you wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of him". By this time the brain is beginning to kick in and you start to ask questions about where the dog was found, where it is now and particularly about the asthmatic friend in the background. "in the front seat of my car, he just hopped in" comes the reply. Well I suppose it would wouldn't it.
We then ran through a range of possibilities for the little elf to follow and let Santa get back to sleep. So, we tried the police station, the local vet emergency service, even thought about bedding down with the reindeer for the night. By this time I had given up all hope of sleep and started internet searches for stray dogs, rescue homes, PDSA (they have a shop just round the corner from your flat perhaps you could leave him there!) and FINALLY new laws passed a couple of years ago passing responsibility for stray dogs, cattle and horses to the environmental health officer at the local council
Standing on the pavement in dressing gown and slippers I didn't really look thoroughly but on closer inspection by daylight he has been in the wars a bit with a lot of scar tissue but he is just too soppy to be a fighting dog so he must be somebody's much loved pet and no doubt there is a family grieving their loss - so if you do recognise him then let me know so that we can get him safely back where he belongs.
We have no name or collar but I guess "Mutt" or Patch" would probably fit the bill. Just to help in the identification process, he doesn't like dog food, will do almost anything for chocolate and seems happy to survive on scrambled eggs, toast and pizza