In case you are new to following my online journal, in fun, I sometimes refer to my husband, John, as the Gingerbread man when he is all bundled up in his winter bib overalls and coat which is a ginger color. And Kylie, normally a strawberry colored Lab in the summer, her coat turns almost the same ginger color as John’s bibs and coat during the winter months. Hence, the reference below as Gingerbread man and Gingerbread dog.
The Gingerbread dog has very important tasks at the end of each day. Rain, snow, or sleet, she is needed.
Her job—assist the Gingerbread man.
Being a Gingerbread man running his own construction business of remodeling Gingerbread houses, this calls for an attentive assistant.
One that can be at his side to help haul materials from the Gingerbread work shed to the Gingerbread van.
Kylie, the Gingerbread dog must be on her toes, ready to assist and give a lending paw.
So you see, this is the idea of the Gingerbread man.
But the Gingerbread dog has other plans.
This should come as no surprise when you are a Labrador.
There is no time to assist the Gingerbread man who is struggling through the snow to carry work horses.
Oh no! Gingerbread dog must sniff the ground, burying her snout deep, to sniff out intruders that come upon our land.
Then she must fall to the ground, rub her head in some disgusting dropping left from the intruder as the Gingerbread man tries to stop her. The operative word here being tries.
But Gingerbread man loses…. every. single. time.
Gingerbread dog, happy with leaving her scent behind to stop the intruders and let them know this is her territory, trots off down the path, full of happiness that only a Lab can know.
Gingerbread man shakes his head in disgust, but also smiles, for the love of a dog who is his best friend.