Frieda has come so far. She hangs out with chickens, lies by my feet while I write, dozes with the other dogs, and has not run off after some animal in a year. She has found her stride and her work. She guards the farm. She is ever vigilant, on the lookout for people who dare to drive loud trucks or walk past the farm. She alert us to visitors and intruders. She is always working to protect us, to make us safe, to keep us safe. She has finally found her work, and it is appreciated.