Fanny has decided she wants to be pals with Red, and she might drive him to actually break off eye contact with the sheep and move. But I doubt it. Each morning now, she comes over to him, leans closer to him. When Fanny decides you are her friend, you are her friend. Red has not quite figured out how to handle this, he is ignoring her, peering through her legs at the sheep, even looking at me imploringly. “I have no advice for you,” I said, “I have no commands. When it comes to love, you are on your own.”