Rowan the Red is a goofy little boy, all floppy paws and grins. He spent several years living in a crate in someone's garage, so he doesn't know much about being a dog, playing with toys or the like. His favorite pastime has been eating plastic and playing frisbee with the food dishes. Until now.
About 5 in the morning, we were torn out of bed by the sounds of World War Three in the back yard. Huge crashes, screeches, growls, scramblings ... I ran to the door, and there stood Sascha, looking at me with totally submissive and angelic big brown eyes. Immediately I realized that something catastrophic had happened. I grabbed a flashlight and ran outside, and there was Rowan, proudly tossing around his first half-dead cat.
I know, Malamutes are predators. Rowan is my third and I've fostered several. In the abstract, hunting is fabulous and primal, and will be useful when the apocalypse comes ;-). But I just can't stand seeing cats killed. My soulmate Allie is a prodigious huntress, but was trained not to eat the indoor cats. But I know that my cats would be toast if they ever stepped paw outside.
Is there any way to train Mallies not to eat outdoor cats??? Even ones that are suicidal enough to jump a 7-foot fence?
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