I don’t know if domesticated animals sense they are missing something by virtue of their association with companion humans who persist in retrieving them when they venture too far from home.

But could any sentient beagle believe he would live a happier life in the wild than under my daughter’s care?  For them the technicality of freedom surely could not make their lives more carefree.

I also don’t know if wild animals are dispirited by captivity when they are in seemingly tender hands and gorgeous zoological facilities.   

It is hard for me to believe that the art of being carefree could be practiced any better than it is by animals–domestic or wild–basking and dozing in the summer sun, scampering into the sea, enfolding themselves among each other after a satisfying catered meal, reaching into winter’s white sunlight for a belly tickle, or snuggling peacefully at our sides as we sink into fitfully fevered sleep.