The labradoodle barks to stop the Chevy Zoom, and barks again before it hops inside. The dog park is only two blocks away, but why walk when you can ride? When the labradoodle hops out, a Boston terrier hops in. The exterior of the Zoom is shiny and white, like a kitchen appliance. It can fit up to six small dogs or one human.

Not that you see many humans. The neighborhood is mostly populated by small dogs and small cars. The cars drive slowly and stop often, in deference to the neighbors who like to dart across the street without looking both ways. Lots of Zooms, but also Honda Futures and Chrysler Genies. Once a Ferrari Intelliauto passed through. The exterior was black, like the carapace of a wasp. It gave no hint of who rode inside until the windows rolled down and two greyhounds wearing matching diamond collars stuck their heads out to bark at us.

There is a mutt who knows how to car surf. He has a piebald coat and long legs, and with a running start can clamber up to the top of all but the tallest cars. He seems to prefer riding on the delivery drones, which go a little faster than the passenger vehicles. He has no collar, so I don't think he has a permanent home. We have that in common.

I've seen him at the dumpsters behind the butcher's, where I forage for my own animals. I know he eats well because he doesn't get territorial. Up close his fur is glossy. He will sniff my hand, but growl when I try to pet him. I've named him Thor, something that describes both his magnificence and his temper.

I've told him there's room in my wagon for one more. It's a beat-up red Flyer and it normally holds Athena, a sharpie mix, and Mercury, who is half Pitbull, half Labrador. Ariadne is an all-black cat, though going gray at the muzzle, but she prefers to ride on my shoulder. If my animals mind being chauffeured by a genuine human intelligence, they have given me no indication. But even though the cars are slow, I am slower.

That's why I don't blame Thor for not wanting to give up his lifestyle of moderate velocity to join us. With a car motoring under his paws, with his nose to the wind, with his tail wagging, he looks like he is embarking on a holy quest. A joyful quest. His journey is his destination. I envy his sense of purpose.


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