The tedium of waiting for the right turn traffic light to change at the intersection of our street is broken by a blurry white image coming toward the intersection. The image becomes clearer and I can make out that it is a small white dog running determinedly along the haven of the median strip separating the four lanes of the busy highway. My heart skips a beat at the danger this poor soul is in and my concern increases as he closes in on the end of the median strip at the intersection. Are you going to stop little dog? But no, as if sensing the traffic light change, he barrels on and into the intersection as the north/south traffic stops.