THE FARMER HAD JUST COME OUT OF THE farmhouse. First thing every morning, before the mist was burnt off by the summer sun, he emerged from the house and called out, “Hey, Zip, let’s get working.” He quickly ducked into the barn and returned again with feed for the goats and chickens. Then it was time to move the sheep from the barn to the outer pasture, where they would graze until the sun got too strong. Zip ran back and forth in front of the sheep, which were all struggling to their feet, baaing loudly. Zip loved work more than anything except, perhaps, sunning herself or getting her head and ears scratched. The sheep were her responsibility, she watched over them day and night. It gave her life focus and connected her to the ancient ritual of working with a human being, and serving him. Some of these characteristics were in her bones, but she had learned much more from Fly, the farmer’s border collie, who had grown up with Zip on the farm, and who had herded the sheep with great energy and skill until she lay down with them in the pasture one summer night and died in her sleep.
