My cousin’s family (his father is my father’s younger brother) once owned a Golden Retriever-mix that was a terror to smaller animals. His name was Clifford, and to humans he was loving and friendly. But to raccoons he was death itself. I will never forget the day my cousin and I were walking Clifford along a paved trail when he suddenly dived into the brush, pulled out a half-grown raccoon and proceeded to slam it against the pavement. By the time my cousin pulled the dog off, the raccoon was mortally wounded and after it lay there for a couple of minutes, only breathing, we let the dog finish it off. That was the first time I saw an animal killed.