Our family of three (one being very surly this week) is headed two hours north to our new home today. HEELLLOOO LOS ANGELES. Does anyone need boxes? We have a few.
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.
There is a fuzzy someone in our house who doesn't like to get her paws wet on a rainy day (DIVA). And we've had a few extra exceptionally rainy days here this week. There's been rain coming in sideways, trees down, hail and tornado warnings. RBY-M decided she was having none of it, and has spent the past three days indoors HARASSING US RELENTLESSLY. Finally the sun poked out for a few minutes so we let her out thinking she would head immediately for the canyon. Little did we know, she had big plans: she staged a protest. That dog has a bladder like a camel. There will be no peeing until the ground is dry, and she doesn't care what anyone has to say about it.