Every morning this long cold winter, Red has done his job, keeping the sheep at their feeder, away from the donkeys, away from us. Someone challenged me on Facebook about my writing about the Central Park Carriage Horses. “How do you know,” she asked, “that the horses like to work? Can you prove it?

I answered her this way: “How do you know a border collie loves to work, loves to herd sheep. Can you prove it?”

We all see what we want to see, I imagine a world in which Red’s life is considered cruel and abusive because he works hard and in all weather around animals that can hurt or kick him. And so he is sent off to live freely and roam the woods, as dogs once did. Why is one thing unimaginable and the other a noble imperative?