Arran sighed as Rig stopped [i]again[/i] to sniff another inanimate object. Sometimes it felt like he wanted to sniff every single blade of grass. Counting to five in German, just for the sake of it, Arran tugged Rig away, leaning her whole body backwards so as to have enough force. Rig was a big dog; his head came up to just below her waist, and his broad chest gave him a lot of power, even though he was getting old and fat, that didn’t stop him being strong. In all probability, Arran would never have been able to control him had he not had the friendly temperament that he had. It was a bit of a joke to the family; he was a big enough dog to scare intruders off, but he was actually more likely to ask for a tummy scratch than to actually try frightening anyone. Lost in her thoughts, and her music, Arran let Rig lead the way, before he stopped again to sniff something else, glancing at him, Arran suddenly realized the thing Rig was sniffing wasn’t a letterbox, bush, street corner, or even a power pole, it was in fact, somebody’s shoe. “Oh sorry,” Arran gently yanked Rig’s lead to let the poor person past. Glancing up she saw a boy with blue hair, a fascinating colour, like the evening sky before the sun set.