Ever since she was a puppy, Phelps has been on the "hunt" for something. If there is a kitten hidding in a bush or a squirel up a tree, she is chasing it. She constantly trys to catch fish at the beach. And of course, there is the duck that used to live in the canal out back.... bless his heart...
But none is worse than the opossum. If there is an opossum within a 5 mile radius of our house, she knows. She has trapped at least half a dozen of them on the dock out back. And yesterday, she escaped from Phil during our walk and chased a monster one down the causeway into a heep of rocks on the water.... about 50 yards away from a major highway (sigh). Thankfully, she was so focused on finding the now *terrified and upset* opossum, she was realitively easy for Phil to catch. And, luckily, never made it anywhere near the road. Way to give me a heart attack. There were a few minutes when I thought for sure that we were down to one dog...
Maybe one day, she will learn to chill out like her brother. But until then, I have accepted her hunting instincts and hope she never catches anything too cute and cuddly....like the neighbor's cat.