I have always heard that cats bring their owners "gifts" and have felt somewhat safe as a committed dog person that I would not wake up in the morning with a dead mouse lying next to me on the pillow. That was until we adopted our rather large Alaskan Mal, whom I lovingly "Schnozzlo" due to his rather over sized snout.
The Mal, being an ancient breed, and still rather close in appearance and choice of hobby to the arctic wolf, still has a very keen desire to hunt. The prey of choice are not caribou or reindeer as many would like to believe, but rats and gophers and the occasional opossum. It is actually rather amusing to watch a 190 lb. dog pouncing around after rodents, and remarkable in that somehow he manages not only to get air bound, but he appears graceful doing it.
It is amusing up until the point when he presents an unexpected gift to his master, in this case me, who responds rather ungraciously by screaming and running into the bedroom, where I continue screaming "blaaaah blaaahh" and add a few decidedly ungraceful dance steps (think Tasmanian devil). Poor guy. When I get over my initial shock, I tell him "good boy" and he looks very proud and I pat him on the head while my husband (who thank god had not left for work yet) picks up the large, dead rat off of my freshly vacuumed carpet and disposes of it.