Lou’s bridge

The area that separates our back porch from our canyon backyard flooded yesterday. Probably not more than two inches, and certainly not enough to drown a dog, but Ruca wasn’t willing to risk it (again with the dainty paws). She hadn’t left her perch on the patio table for two days. So what’s a man to do? Build his dog a bridge, OBVIOUSLY. Out of what? The nearest mirror that’s waiting for it’s move to LA, DUH. And what happens when dog spies said bridge? She takes full advantage, pounces, and snaps it in half. OR COURSE.  Bridge=FAIL.

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