The following passage is from a 1994 collection of essays about animals, written by a poet, philosopher, and animal trainer.
The question that comes first to my mind is this: What would it mean to say that an animal has the right to the pursuit of happiness? How would that come about, and in relationship to whom?
(5)In speaking of "animal happiness," we often tend to mean something like "creature comforts." The emblems of this are the golden retriever rolling in the grass, the horse with his nose deep in the oats, kitty by the fire. Creature comforts are important to animals: "Grub first, then ethics" (10) is a motto that would describe many a wise Labrador retriever, and I have a bull terrier named Annie whose continual quest for the perfect pillow inspires her to awesome feats. But there is something more to animals, something more to my Annie, a capacity for satisfactions (15) that come from work in the full sense
something approximately like what leads some people to insist that they need a career (though my own temperament is such that I think of a good woodcarver or a dancer or a poet sooner than I think of a business executive when I (20) contemplate the kind of happiness enjoyed by an accomplished dressage' horse). This happiness, like the artist's, must come from something within the animal, something trainers call talent, and so cannot be imposed on the animal. But at the same time it does not arise in a (25) vacuum; if it had not been a fairly ordinary thing in one part of the world at one point to teach young children to play the harpsichord, it is doubtful that Mozart's music would exist. There are animal versions, if not equivalents, of Mozart, and they cannot make their spontaneous (30) passions into sustained happiness without education, any more than Mozart could have. Aristotle identified happiness with ethics and with work, unlike Thomas Jefferson, who defined happiness as "Indolence of Body; Tranquility of Mind," and thus what I (35) call creature comforts. Aristotle also excluded as unethical anything that animals and artists do, for reasons that look wholly benighted to me. Nonetheless, his central insights are more helpful than anything else I know in beginning to understand why some horses and dogs can only be (40) described as competent, good at what they do, and there-fore happy. Not happy because leading lives of pleasure, but rather happy because leading lives in which the sensation of getting it right, the "click," as of the pleasure that comes from solving a puzzle or surmounting something, (45) is a governing principle.