Soon I came upon a woman walking her dog, barely visible in the dark, pointing to her right.
My quick question. "Had he caught the possum?"
"Oh, good. That means he's headed home."
My compadre and I took different loops on the way to the house to be sure one of us would catch up with Koko. And there he was, nearly to the doorstep, possum in his mouth, stepping carefully to keep the blue leash container from bonking his legs too hard.
We can't actually restrain him once he goes in pursuit of an animal; he's simply too strong. And, as you can see by his smile and bright eyes, it's total joy for him.
The only issue he has with possums is that once he gets them home they refuse to play. He knows they're alive (he pays no attention to dead critters; I've seen him step over dead squirrels as though they're invisible) but doesn't grasp the concept of comatose.