can't fit her in my hands, but she rests her chin comfortably in my
palm. She places her paw on my arm, a symbol of love, respect, and
honor. Chelsea is patient, loving, and kind. Following me from room to
room is what she likes to do, carrying her ball, grabbing my ankle,
wanting to play, wanting attention. I throw the ball, I pet her, we
play. In the evening she's my dad's running partner, my mom's friend
and protector during the day, and my sisters' and my "best friend."
But...there is another side to Chelsea...she's a huntress. My loving
pet's personality changes one hundred percent when she goes hunting.
She is a mean, lean, killing machine! As she finds the bird after I
shoot it, she runs and retrieves it. The hunting instinct is strong,
and she's ready to go again. Chelsea is as excited as a person winning
After a long day of hunting, she hops on the top of my bed and falls
asleep in less than a minute. Her small, thirty-pound body curls up in
a round circle, white and orange in color, as she rests quietly.
Suddenly, I know she is dreaming; her legs twitch, and her muzzle
trembles. Whether she is dreaming of her hunts or of our playing games
in the leaves or snow, I don't know. But I do know that Chelsea is my
"important thing." She is, Chelsea Alaskan Huntress, my dog, a Brittany.