She's already got her resume, business cards, and mustard packets (which are so much more grown up than ketchup) ready. So why is it taking eleventeen hundred years to find work? When Frannie notices her aunt's dog limping, she sees it as her big break to be a vet, so it's off to the veterinarian's office, where she can showcase her doggy-diagnostic skills. But in true Frannie form, all she can pull off is a doggy disaster?