The cold might be questionable; the layers might be annoying—but snow? Snow is a completely different story.

The moment Abbi sees it, everything changes.

What was once hesitation turns into excitement. Her steps get lighter, her tail starts moving faster, and suddenly the cold doesn’t matter anymore. Snow isn’t something to avoid it’s something to experience. The ground crunches under her paws, the air feels sharp and clean, and every scent seems brand new. Abbi charges forward, nose buried in the powder, leaving a trail of paw prints behind her like proof she was there. She hops, spins, and dives face-first into the snow, popping back up with a look that says this might be the best thing she’s ever seen. Every snowflake feels like an invitation to play. There’s a kind of freedom that shows up when dogs hit the snow, and Abbi wears it well. No schedules. No expectations. Just movement, curiosity, and pure joy. She runs until she’s tired, then runs a little more—because snow days are never long enough.

Watching Abbi play in the snow is a reminder of how simple happiness can be. No phones. No noise. Just a dog, a winter landscape, and a moment that doesn’t need to be rushed. Eventually, the cold creeps back in, and it’s time to head inside. But even then, with snow dusting her fur and a satisfied grin on her face, it’s clear Abbi didn’t just tolerate the snow.

She owned it.