After 50 inches of snow so far this January I think old Fran has given up. All the poopie paths in the world won't take him where he wants to go. He wants to spend his time just boodling along the ground sniffing out new excitements but right now the little guy is severely restricted by the depth of the stuff.
I asked him if he wanted to go outside, normally it gets Fran all worked up but this morning he poked his nose outside, smelled nothing but snow, and just sauntered back onto the warmth and comfort of his couch.
Anabelle does this anytime it's even raining or below 40 degrees. I have to wait until she sticks her head out the dog door and then push the rest of her out or else she'll come right back in and go on the carpet.