The only thing better than chasing squirrels is chasing squirrels in the snow. During her visit last summer, Fran wasn't too interested in the back yard. This visit she seems to be having a blast hunting squirrels.
Fran is a bone snob. She enjoys her Milkbones. She loves leftover rib bones. She will have nothing to do with store-bought raw hide bones. At least, at our house.
When Fran is upset with us, she goes to her 'room' and lays on her bed. She has quite the pout. When she's really upset with us, she gets on the leather couch.
I had my first trip to the vet. Fran's left front paw was bleeding and we traced it to her toe nail. Long story short, nothing serious. She had mearly pulled it away from the skin, we assume during her wild hunting runs through the brush in the back yard. She weighs 38 pounds.
Twice, within a few days, Fran took a Milkbone on her walk, and buried it in the snow. She hasn't seemed interested in finding them since.
What is it about men? Michael says 'Grandpa' clearly and 'Grandma' sounds like 'Grandpa' (I am not complaining - I'll take any form of 'Grandma' I can get!) Fran prefers Mike, if he's willing to pet her.
Franny hardly barks. Unless she has a squirrel treed in our yard. The other day she actually barked, like a real dog, at this squirrel. She also barks when the post man or UPS man approaches the door.
