One of those ridiculously huge F100s,
a man inspecting the motor,
impromptu, aged fishing shacks.
A small, yappy piebald dog greets us.
A blue/brindle Great Dane bitch. Her eyelids drooping to reveal her reddened lower eye-lids and as she lopes towards us, she looks like a red-eyed, grey ghost. I am busy trying to back the trailer into a driveway to turn around and go home. I wave to the man bent over his truck and he waves back to say he is okay.
"Did you see that dog? That Great Dane? Wow," I say to the guys who helped me move house. "She is amazing. What a dog."
"Sarah. Sarah. Look at that dog."
I'm so busy backing the trailer that it takes a while until I turn back onto the track. Then I see the dog stalking alongside the car.
He's about the same size as a lion. I can tell by his gait that he's got all of his balls. His coat is the glossy blue/grey/black of a Burmese cat, his neck is rolled with fat and muscle. He knows who he is. He looks like a bull mastiff but he's bigger than any dog I've ever seen. He feels no need to bark at us.
He just walks us out of the place.