A Narrow Crossing

I squeezed past the screen door flap into the bright yard. Along the gravel path, a long cedar timber lined the flowerbed like a low, narrow bridge. I paused. The top was barely as wide as my shell. I planted both claws against the rough wood and hoisted my weight up. It was a steep step. I balanced on the ridge. Slowly, I moved my front claws forward, one after the other. My plush tail trailed straight behind to keep steady. The wood grain was warm and dry under my belly. I walked the entire length of the timber until I reached the brick corner post. I did not slip once.