Raw-fed, stroller-riding, heron-chasing, butterfly-finding Frenchie puppy — and this is his world.
Winston is an 8-month-old French bulldog with a big personality and an even bigger estate. He lives on five gated acres where he serves as head of pond security, chief butterfly spotter, and part-time Roomba cowboy.
He used to live on a farm. Now he rides in a $600 stroller, eats raw duck, and refuses to get his paws wet in the rain. It's called growth.
Winston is raw-fed — and he's thriving on it. Here's his daily French bulldog raw feeding routine:
Duck recipe, served fresh. Raw dog food has been a game-changer for Winston's coat, energy, and digestion. If you're considering raw feeding for your Frenchie puppy, this is where to start.
Pupford training treats and freeze-dried beef liver — the only currency Winston accepts. These puppy training treats are small, soft, and perfect for French bulldog training sessions.
Five acres, a koi pond with a waterfall, terraced gardens, and a Frenchie who thinks he owns all of it. Winston does his rounds every morning — checking the pond, sniffing for monarch chrysalises, and making sure no blue heron is eyeing the koi.
When it rains? He stays on the porch. He has a Doggie Lawn grass patch for rainy days because this Frenchie does not do wet paws — even with five acres at his disposal.
His ride: a TAVO Maeve 7X pet stroller (the best dog stroller for French bulldogs who prefer to be chauffeured). His throne at home: a Kuranda elevated dog bed. His look: a Beast & Buckle harness.
While his human was out weeding and gardening, Winston spotted a blue heron on the roof — eyeing the koi pond like it was a sushi menu. He started barking his head off, chased it clear across the yard, and the heron took off. The koi were saved. Winston now considers pond security part of his official job description, and he takes it very seriously.
Winston has a gift for finding monarch caterpillars and chrysalises around the estate. He found not one but TWO monarch butterflies emerging from their chrysalises on the stone French bulldog statue in the garden — as if the butterflies knew exactly where to go. He sniffs them out like a tiny detective, then sits back and watches the magic happen.
Winston rides the Roomba robot vacuum around the house like it's his personal steed. When he's not riding it, he's waging daily war on brooms and vacuums — barking, pouncing, and generally making cleaning day a contact sport. He also has a habit of carrying shovels and cleaning products around the yard like he's helping with the chores. He is not helping.
Every evening, Winston and his human sit together on the front porch of the estate and watch the sunset. No phone, no rushing — just a Frenchie and his person, watching the sky turn pink and gold over five acres. It's the quietest part of the day, and Winston's favorite. He doesn't chase anything, doesn't bark at anything. He just sits, watches, and leans in close.
Things I wish someone told me before getting a French bulldog. Written from the trenches.
Forget everything you know about dog training. French bulldogs don't follow commands — they negotiate. Winston doesn't "sit" because I said so. He sits because he calculated that sitting leads to a Pupford treat in approximately 4 seconds. This is not obedience. This is a business transaction, and he is winning.
Tip: Keep training treats tiny and frequent. Frenchies have the attention span of a goldfish with WiFi. Three-minute sessions, maximum. End on a win. Always.
Switching Winston to raw was the single best decision I made. His coat went from dull to show-dog shiny in three weeks. His energy stabilized. His digestion — let's just say the backyard cleanup got a lot easier.
What worked for us: We Feed Raw duck recipe, twice a day. Transition slowly over 7-10 days, mixing increasing amounts of raw with the old food. Some dogs get an upset stomach if you switch cold turkey — Winston's stomach is iron, but yours might not be.
Cost reality: Raw costs more than kibble. Budget around $150-250/month for a Frenchie. Worth every penny when your vet asks what you've been doing differently.
French bulldogs get tear stains. It's the breed. Winston's used to look like he'd been crying through a marathon. What actually worked: Earth Rated baby wipes, gentle daily cleaning, and keeping the area dry. Not magic, just consistency. His face went from stained to clean in about two weeks of daily wiping.
Frenchies are brachycephalic — flat faces, narrow airways, terrible at cooling down. Winston can only handle short early-morning walks in summer. If it's over 80°F, we're inside. Know the signs of overheating: excessive panting, drooling, glazed eyes. This isn't optional knowledge — it's life-or-death for the breed.
Winston snores like a freight train. Not cute little puppy snores — full-body, wall-vibrating, wake-the-neighbors snores. I've recorded it. People don't believe me until they hear it. An 18-pound dog should not be able to produce that volume of sound. It's physically impossible, and yet.
French bulldogs have mastered the side-eye. Winston can communicate "you're embarrassing me" with a single glance. He does it when I sing. He does it when I try to put a costume on him. He does it when I eat something without sharing. The side-eye is his primary language, and he's fluent.
Personal space is a concept Winston has never encountered. He follows me room to room. He sits on my feet while I cook. He stares at me through the shower door. If I close a door, he sits outside it and sighs — loudly, dramatically — until I open it. I haven't peed alone in eight months.
At exactly 9 PM every night, Winston gets the zoomies. He goes from dead asleep to full sprint in zero seconds, does three laps around the living room, parkours off the couch, and then collapses like nothing happened. Every. Single. Night. I've stopped being surprised. The furniture has not.
Winston can hear a treat bag open from three rooms away through a closed door. But "come here"? Never heard of it. "Drop it"? What language is that? His hearing is absolutely perfect — it's his listening that's broken. And honestly? I respect it.
Real entries from a very busy Frenchie. Dictated, not written — I don't have thumbs.
People ask why an 8-month-old athletic French bulldog needs a $600 stroller. First of all, it's a TAVO Maeve 7X, and it's called having standards. Second, have you seen the ground? There's dirt down there. I have five acres and I use approximately none of them for walking. I am transported. There's a difference.
I attend all of my human's Zoom calls. I don't know what a Zoom is, but I know that when the little faces appear on the screen, it's time for me to sit directly in front of the camera and stare. I'm the co-CEO. The C stands for Cute. Nobody has corrected me.
It rained today. I looked at the five acres of land I own, I looked at the rain, and I went back inside. My human put down a patch of real grass on the porch — a Doggie Lawn — so I wouldn't have to get wet. Some might call this spoiled. I call it problem-solving. The grass is hydroponically grown, by the way. I only go on artisanal grass.
My human was gardening. I helped by carrying a shovel around the yard. Did I dig anything? No. Did I look incredibly helpful while doing it? Absolutely. I also carry cleaning products. I don't know what they do, but I hold them with confidence, and that's what matters in a helper.
My human tried to get me to do a trick without a treat. I just stared at her. We have a system: I perform, Pupford freeze-dried beef liver appears. No liver, no performance. This is called having a union. I am the union.
There is a loud monster that eats dirt off the floor. I attack it every time. My human says it's called a vacuum and it's "helping." I don't trust anything that loud that isn't me barking. The Roomba, though — that's different. That's my horse. I ride it around the house like a tiny cowboy. We have an understanding.
My human says I snore too loud. I say she should be grateful I'm providing white noise. Do you know how much a white noise machine costs? I'm doing this for free. Out of love. She should thank me.
My human tried to give me a bath. I looked at the water, I looked at her, and I walked away. She followed me with a towel. I ran. We did this for ten minutes. Eventually she gave up and used wipes. This is called winning through endurance. I have a lot of endurance when it comes to avoiding water.
I'm eight months old. In dog years, that's basically a teenager. I'm going through a phase. The phase is: I do what I want. My human calls it "the stubborn stage." I call it "finding myself." We're both right.
Winston has a gift for finding monarch butterflies. Here are the ones he discovered around the estate — including two that emerged right on the French bulldog statue in the garden.
Eight months old and already living a full life. Winston is in the thick of French bulldog puppy training — learning, growing, and testing every boundary. Neutering day is on the horizon, a major puppy milestone.
From farm pup to estate king in eight months. Not bad for a little guy.