So we went out to scoop poop this morning, Scotty and me. As Scotty rounds the corner of the yard (it has four!), he starts sprinting in his predator mode. No big woop. Whenever he catches sight of a cat or a bunny (we have quite a few resident wild bunnies), he goes for it as if he has a chance of catching them before they slip through the fence.
Pay attention, as-iffers, because Scotty managed to latch his snout around a fluffy brown bunny. The bunny was squeaking like a, well, I suppose like a panicked bunny, although I have never heard a bunny squeak before. It's quite disturbing.
Just as Scotty was about to shake it like a Polaroid picture, I shouted "no," and for once, he listened to me. I told him to drop the bunny and, again, oddly, he did. The two were stuck in a standoff, the bunny afraid to run, Scotty afraid to look away and lose his first live-caught prey.
Because Scotty and Bun were behind some vicious sticker bushes, I could not force him to do anything. So I tried calling. "Come, Scotty." He considered it, but abandoned the idea. I tried a little intimidation. I knocked on the trunk of the sticker bush with my poop-picking-up spade (an empty threat if there ever was one), and called him again. And he came. Really!
The bunny escaped with his life, although with much less fur than he had a moment ago.
So now you know. Scotty is deadly. To bunnies. Look at him with respect now, for he is a predator. He certainly feels more respect for himself.
You can tell.