My young Schnoodle, Emma, has an obsession with the birds that land in our yard. When she senses their presence she nuzzles at the glass door and strains with every sinew in her effort to get at them. Becoming her accomplice, I slide open the door to allow her to indulge her desire. She skates across the lawn, barking happily as she shoos her winged adversaries from blade to limb. But I know her deeper secret: she longs to fly.