|This isn't the pothole on Water St., but it's comparable.|
Caitlin plunged into it one day when we were walking to the dog park. The pothole was so deep that she was able to get completely underwater. She came out drenched and dripping with filthy black water.
It would have made a wonderful photo, but I didn't have a camera with me.
"Next time!" I promised myself.
A couple of days later we walked to the park again. I had my camera with me this time, and had already turned it on and adjusted the focus in anticipation of a hilarious picture to post on my blog.
Just as we were coming up to the pothole, Lee drove past with his dog, Kaylee, in the truck. He honked and waved and asked if we wanted a ride.
Caitlin went crazy. As Lee drove off, she pulled frantically on the leash and started screaming as though she were under torture. The pothole was completely forgotten. She hauled me the rest of the way to the park at top speed. If she'd been a sled dog, we'd have won the Iditarod.
The next day, the city had filled the pothole.
I was really mad.
Here was a pothole so deep that it had probably already ruined the alignment of dozens of cars and cracked the axle of at least one school bus, and I was mad because of a missed photo-op.
I still wish they'd waited just one more day.