Horace turned left when he got to the northwest corner of Pratt Institute. He headed south on the sidewalk past the 9-foot-high iron bars, just like the White House ones, that enclosed the campus. Why the fence, he often wondered. Ahead of him, a big, ugly pit bull mix was squatting. Its pony-tailed owner waited. When the dog finished doing its business, the owner walked away without putting the waste into a plastic bag. Horace walked past the fresh pile. A dog and a pig, he thought. He walked onto campus through the gate at DeKalb Street and sat down near one of the many intriguing outdoor sculptures. Works of art were everywhere on campus. Sitting next to a totally white, eight-foot-tall woman's head, he called his wife. Hearing about the woman and her dog, his wife said, "She didn't see it as poop; she saw it as performance art."