She is like the sacred truffle sniffing pig of Fronce. Yes, Fronce! As she clomps through the fresh deep snow like an aimless tiny landship in search of buried treasure, she finds her joie de vivre in the tiny caper like orbs left behind out of the behind of some rabbit's ass. She delights in its pungent aroma(its secret known only to her) and simplicity(she hasn't gagged on one yet) throwing caution to the wind as she gobbles it down.
