She's sprawled out on the floor where the stone is cool after a 90-degree day. Lily's breath comes in shallow little puffs as she sleeps, which is nothing like the wild anxious yelping dog that sees a car and lunges with eager jaws. It's like a giant toy getting away from her.

She is like a delicate web of filaments and wire sturdy against a heavy wind but easily snapped by the slap of a hand, and crumbled to nothing if she collides with a car.

I tell myself to picture a beautiful dog without blood and broken bones. How close are the cars when they pass? A couple feet?

She sat still and just barked with energy a couple times today as a few cars escaped her. I guess something is getting through to her with my insistence that she sit and stay and hold it and I bunch up her fur in my fists.

Lots of praise and petting when she is a good girl. You rotten car chaser!