February 15, 2009

Ahhhh, country life; Our German Shepherd killed a raccoon this morning

There's nothing like an early morning stroll on my mom's country property in rural Pennsylvania to get the blood pumping and wake up without coffee. The air is crisp and clean, The nearby creek is babbling softly.

I took one of mom's German Shepherd's, named Guinness, out for a walk with me. He's quite territorial and very protective. He doesn't need a leash because he listens very well.

So we take a stroll around the upper level of mom's house, then head down to the lower acreage near the creek. There's an old work shed on that level where my step-dad used to putty around. The shed is abandoned and empty but, as I found out this morning, not unoccupied.

As I walked along the lower level, Guinness was about 30 yards ahead of me when he arrived at the right corner of the work shed.

In the blink of an eye, he lunged at something underneath the corner of the shed and attacked whatever it was. WHOA! No bark, no growl, just POUNCE!

Within seconds, he yanked a sizable raccoon out from under the shed. He had it in his mouth, the thing extending maybe a foot out of each side of his jaws and shook it violently.

The dog clamped down on the Raccoon so tightly, the animal was just about flattened where he was being bitten.

It happened so fast I absolutely couldn't believe it. I was stunned. My heart was pounding in my chest as I watched this kill take place.

At this point, I knew not to interfere because if the raccoon wasn't dead yet and if I yelled or otherwise distracted Guinness, the dying raccoon could hurt or kill the dog. So I watched.

Guinness dropped his prey on the ground and nudged it with his snout. Apparently, the coon was still moving so Guinness clamped down on it again and shook it even more violently.

Dropping the coon again, Guinness next pawed at it aggressively, flipping it over and over. The raccoon was quite dead. So I call Guinness. Big mistake.

He grabs the dead raccoon and starts bringing it to me! Just fucking great. What the hell am I gonna do with it?

He drops the raccoon at my feet, jumps up on me, panting like a happy puppy as if to say, "look what I did dad!" I tell him c'mon boy, back to your pen. He headed back quite content at what just happened while I'm still trying to breathe as the adrenalin is coursing through my body.

What I just can't get over is the absolute FEROCIOUSNESS of the whole thing. This is a dog I play with and think nothing of it. Yet within a fraction of a second, he became so unbelievably ferocious that he was able -- and quite willing -- to kill.

Maybe I'll have a cup of coffee now . . . . . . to calm down. Then I'll go clean up the dead coon.