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The tar on our lane is many years old cracked and washed away in places. In the biggest hole, it sleeps. A wretched hungry creature with a wretched hungry expression, its black and brown fur missing in places bitten out in tufts by other dogs and devoured by rash. Every time I drive past, It reluctantly drags itself to its feet and watches fearfully as I guide my tires gently in and out of its hole. Its dull eyes beg permission to live one more day from everyone who passes. The residents have complained about the road for years. One day, miraculously, the City arrives and carpets the lane with asphalt. The creature watches from a distance, unable to tread on the hot steaming surface. Night falls, the tar cools and the City leaves. Where the hole used to be, it sleeps.