We have a German Shepherd named Greta.
According to the ever-accurate and infallible wikipedia "The dogs were bred to preserve traits that assisted in their job of herding sheep and protecting flocks from predators".
About 2 weeks ago, we adopted my parents dog Sasha.
Sasha is a miniature Jack Russel, which is basically a Jack Russel who (about 6 generations before Sasha) mixed it up with a Dachsund. Picture a Jack Russel, chop off his legs and photoshop in some stumpy weiner dog legs, and you have Sasha!
According to the aforementioned truth-wielding site, this breed is "a predominantly white working terrier with an insatiable instinct to hunt formidable quarry underground".
One last note before we begin the gripping tale of two pooches...rabbits in the wild live in burrows and tunnels, thus lending them to the group of "formidable quarry underground" for the terrier to be hunting. And we begin...
It was a warm but cloudy day in the quiet country setting of Albany, Georgia. Kimb was in the kitchen cleaning up from breakfast as the chirruns made messy messes throughout. She swept the floors, tidied the living room, and got the chirruns into their clothes for the day.
Meanwhile, out back, the handsome husband took their new dog, Sasha, out to play in the yard. Greta, the German Shepherd, was already running her daily laps around the rabbit pen. You see, Greta has this instinctual desire to force groups of animals into submission by forming small groups and herding them where she pleases. Unfortunately for Greta, but quite fortunate for the rabbits, the rabbits are inside cages and the cages are inside a kennel, so there's no necessity for the rounding up of or the herding of the rabbits. But Greta's tiny dog brain that is able to learn up to a thousand commands and can be trained to be a police officer can't quite get a grip on the "no need to herd the rabbits" idea, so she runs laps around the kennel. Laps and laps and laps. Over the course of about 3 weeks, her racetrack has been carved out and is now settled nicely about 5 inches below the level of the bordering yard.
So there was Greta, running her laps. And out through the door came Scottie-too-hottie and Sasha. Well, Sasha's hunting instincts are about as powerful and useless and Greta's herding instincts, so her immediate reaction was to bolt into the rabbit pen. Scott thought she was just checking out the bunnies, so he absentmindedly began the task of feeding and watering the rabbits. As he began to scoop the rabbit pellet food from the bucket, he caught a flash of brown through his peripheral vision. As he turned to see what it was, he realized that he had made a fatal mistake...
Greta had her jaws wrapped totally around Sasha's neck and was half dragging, half ragdoll shaking her out of the kennel. As Scott's mind processed the sight, he finally snapped into action, yelling and kicking and snatching and running.
Kimb was minding her own business, doing her chores when Scott burst through the door and said "I think Greta killed Sasha". Kimb thought it was a joke, and continued with the housewifery...until Scott walked around the corner with Sasha in his arms--a gaping puncture on each side of her neck. Like..y'all...guts and muscles and junk hanging out.
So long story short, I jumped in the car, rushed her to the vet, she got some stitches, stayed the weekend, got fixed, hates my guts, the vet says she's fine and we're all happy. And the best part? As soon as we got home she tried to sneak out the back door to play with Greta!
This is with the stitches in...she didn't even know she got hurt!