the first time i had killed anything--but not yours. you stood there in fighter mode, not moving, tense and breathing hard. i threw the stick to the side, making sure the raccoon was dead, and picked you up. you were rigid as i carried you--all 80 pounds of you--into the house...i still don't know how i did that...or how i even took you up the stairs. i put you on the floor and did a quick check: yes, you were okay. until i looked at my shirt. it was covered in blood--your blood. just from your ear and you were okay, but i still called the emergency vet (who was 