I love Red dearly, he and I could not be closer without being disturbing. Yet I have discovered something about him that I ought to share. Red is a humorless dog. Some dogs – Lenore – have a wonderful sense of humor. They seem to grasp the absurd nature of life and are always smiling about it. Other dogs, especially the great working dogs, are nearly humorless. Rose was humorless. She found nothing that was absurd funny and could not laugh at the foibles and ridiculousness of life. Or sheep.

Even Frieda has her playful moments, when she is not terrorizing bikers or guarding the farm. She grabs toys, prances, and her eyes can practically twinkle with mischief. Not Red. You will never see a photo of him smiling or twinkling. He is a serious dog. Perhaps all of the great working dogs are that way.

Red is like Rose in some ways. You could not hope for a better dog, really, but I see that he has no sense of humor. He tolerates no mistakes, foibles or eccentricities in sheep or anything else. He is always on alert, ready to work, his sense of purpose and focus unwavering. Every time I stand up, he is at the door, ready to go. He seems impervious even to Lenore’s charms, although he will on occasion try and play (a/k/a) herd her.

Even when Red is loving up his growing list of girlfriends, he is all work. He approaches them, eyes wide, head up and waits for the oohs and aaaahs and cuddles he always gets. Love is as important to him as work. But I don’t yet see any signs of a sense of humor in Red. He cannot be distracted by talk, treats or admiration. He is like a laser that points in one direction, then another.

Even when he is hanging out with me, which is almost all of the time, he is either lying by my feet or heading for the car or the pasture. I have a great dog, but I think he is a humorless dog.