Dancing with death.*

As the animals and I all get older, we meet more often in 'amusingly' unplanned ways. For instance in trying to get out from under my feet, the dog (who surely ought to have learnt better at his age than to be under them in the first place) will dance and lunge sideways and backwards in every which direction. Except the right one. This makes him look as though he's trying to stay under my feet. Eventually he'll back himself sheepishly into the very corner towards which I am heading.
The cats generally have a little more sense. They only get under my feet when I'm going downstairs or when I'm trying to feed them. But once in either of those situations, they suddenly start behaving like pheasants. They seem quite unable to see that I'm going in a more or less straight line and make frantic zig zag dashes across my path. So yesterday, as I carried two cat bowls to the shelf, they both zig zagged and Mandu paused indecisively just under where my foot was about to be. (carrying the bowls see, I couldn't. See.) So I trod on her causing a shriek of protest.
As I was about to apologise, wobbling a little, she dashed the other way, where I was stepping to avoid her. We both realised that this was a mistake and I attempted to adjust the landing place of the foot. She changed direction. By winding herself round my other foot. So there I am, two bowls of cat food held high, poised on one foot and doing a kind of morris dance wobble with the other one in mid air, on the edge of the step, with a cat wound round the grounded foot. I decided to go for the big stride, met the cat again, missed the step, swooped gracefully floorwards, described an elegant sideways arc and arrived, slightly disturbed among the rubbish stacked up for the recycling men and the barrel left over from the party, with both bowls of cat food intact and held high.
Impressive or what?

I've always been good at falling over.

I expect Mandu thought the whole episode was an elaborate punishment for being hungry in the first place. Probably translated my extensive and vocal rudeness as "Take that and that, yes and that! And never ask me for food again"
The other cat, darted around the periphery, and when the battle was over hopped up to the shelf and said "Squawk? Mrrrrrr? Dinner? Why not?" I swore at her too.

I came face to er, root, with this the other day. Why is a potato sitting on the scales? I asked? Waiting for judgement maybe?
No, it's Barney's entry for the Turner Prize.
Ah.....
I set off in the pouring rain and there were these two, solemnly discussing whatever horses discuss.
But the rain stopped :)
Later the sun came out, just long enough to go down again!


*The first time I fell over a cat on the stairs, I realised that when it came, my end would probably be fast and furious and involve fur and a broken neck.**
**Sandy Denny died of a broken neck, falling downstairs. I wonder if she had a cat?