When friends from Boston check in with me about life here in Sullivan, they invariably comment that the dogs must be in heaven.  I’m afraid I get slightly defensive at this, since I hear an implication that their previous lives were just adequate.  I think the stimulation and social opportunities of the city can be wonderful for a border collie, and Cass in particular strove to personally charm every single human being in Greater Boston.  Their city lives, though, were always accompanied by fairly close supervision.  And Luc, wound a little to tightly for his own good, struggled to reconcile himself to all the alarming sounds of dense humanity.  One of the joys here on the farm is that we can head out in the morning and I might not see the pups for an hour or two at a stretch.  They get to just be dogs, exploring their new home unfiltered by human presence, while I’m comfortable that they’re safe and always within shouting distance.  And this autonomy seems to do wonders for Luc’s anxieties; in the context of the farm, even gunfire from the nearby shooting range no longer bothers him.   So yes, I guess they are in heaven.