Maybe the way she mouths things, drooling over them and the floor or your clothing.
Maybe the foot prints of the damp foot pads on the hardwood floor.
Maybe the golden strands of fur everywhere, like tumbleweed on the floor, in your food or on your clothes, especially your black wool coat.
Maybe the barking at anything that moves outside.
Maybe the jumping up on visitors to the house.
Maybe the way she takes over the bed, leaving mere ledges available to its original occupants.
Maybe the deposits she leaves in the yard or the way she makes colorless patches of grass in summer.
Maybe the way she loves going out in the worst weather, getting as wet or snow covered as possible.
Maybe the way she takes her half of the couch in the middle.
Yet, we do love her. She's as much a part of the family as any of us. The good thing is that, like all grandchildren, the granddog goes home too. And it's tomorrow!
She'll have to finish training us next time!