Ginger Gets A Job

Finally. One of us has a job. It's Ginger!
Every afternoon Richard and Ginger head off for their walk. They hang around the fringes of the golf course looking for balls. There's alot of competition out there. One guy comes by in his golf cart with two Springer Spaniels hoping to beat out little Ginger. But he's no match for my fearless duo on foot.
She may be little but she's got the scent of golf balls committed to memory. The past two days in a row, Richard arrived home with his pockets bulging. Twenty balls the first day and twenty-one the second. He emptied his pockets one by one throwing the balls in the sink.
"Gee. She's getting the ones that have been out there awhile, isn't she?" as I counted them. Dirt and grass caked the balls. Most of them were barely even white anymore.
"She sticks her nose way down in the brush. You should see that tail wag when she comes up with one." Richard praised her again while throwing five biscuits on the floor as her reward. "You're a keeper, Ginger."
"Thanks Ginger for keeping us out of the poor house. How much do you think we can sell these for?" I sat down at the computer and started searching Ebay for used golf balls. Prices varied but at $5 or $10 a dozen, I think she's on to something.
"You've got a new job, Ginger. Good for you!" She smiled her toothy smile and wagged her tail. At least one of us now has a job. Things may be looking up in 2010 after all.