Here I have put that gigantic dog I saw in Banff out on the road.  If you look at the drawing long enough you will see that the road changes, moves, but the dog-truck does not: an almost supernatural halting.  It is possible, if you look hard enough, to hear the dog growl.  Some dogs always growl and he is one.  This growling is a constant dialogue with himself - like mine with my pencil - leading hopefully to higher consciousness.

The driver, though boxed-in and seemingly a less significant figure, is in fact in charge.  He seems to be taking the dog on a journey, delivering it somewhere, taking it somewhere.  But it seems that the truck has stopped - stopped in the manner of Zeno's Paradox rather than because of a hole in the tank - that the driver does not know how to continue, that he does not see an end in sight.  The journey, though halted, goes on forever, the growl never stops, the driver has achieved satori while listening to the growl of the dog, the shush of the landscape, the rasp of the pencil.