Theodore considered the idea of comparability to apes as he gathered up a bucket and led her through the gate that closed the pasture. He was careful to close it behind them, and even when they'd made it inside and closed the gap between the closure and the horse, he couldn't imagine many similarities between himself and what was, in his opinion, such an exotic and uncivilised creature. "They are, indeed, still creatures. But, like humans, some creatures are more noble than others, and some better tuned to the human psyche." He didn't feel defensive of the animals, per se, but he considered horses to be superior to some forms of human life. They certainly didn't engage in some of mankind's embarrassing traits, for instance.
Setting down the bucket with care, he edged in front of Astoria and allowed the horse to smell him. He hadn't been near one in years, and there was some part of him that felt an acute longing, almost melancholy, for the loss.
"She's beautiful," he agreed, voice low and gentle. "May I have your hand?"