Some people tiptoe through the tulips, some attempt, quite unwisely in my opinion, the Harlem Shuffle. I myself glide through the air sleek, devastatingly graceful and always moving with a rhythm that would rival Jagger. It is this word, rhythm, that introduces  you to the topic of my mind’s wanderings this evening.

Rhythm is apparently a dancer…and now…so shall I, the Spindlehound, rejoice in the medium of movement. This decision has been prompted by me witnessing a most dreadful sight this evening, and has consequently spurred me into action. Whilst nibbling daintily on my fifth custard cream I looked up as a shadow flitted past me. Attached to this shadow was the short human, displaying symptoms of St Vitus’s dance.

Words really cannot adequately describe this vision. I initially rushed to her side with great haste, assuming that her uncontrolled flailing of limbs was indeed some kind of medical event. Alas no. The tall one explained to me in hushed tones that she was in fact dancing. On purpose. She continued to sashay around the house for some time until after a sustained period of whirling like a dervish, she lost her footing and crashed sideways like a demented crab down the kitchen step and landed in a crumpled heap. I assumed the tall human would leap up in a lot of concern to help, but he appeared unmoved and carried on leafing through his copy of ‘Beard Monthly’ whilst lounging in his special gentleman’s chair.

With a deep sigh I stretched and took it upon myself to pad over and peer into her pocket in case she had been carrying any snacks at the time of the collision. Alas no, so I padded back to my custard creams and left her writhing in a heap.

Similarly I have also witnessed the tall human dancing. This is altogether different as he is somewhat more reserved and his ‘shape throwing’ seems to be done in a way to expend the absolute minimum of energy. My favourite of all his moves is ‘the rapid headshake’ which is normally done from the comfort of his chair (I have my beady eyes on the chair I may add).

Having already planned my impending mind expansion (poetry) I have now decided to extend this self improvement to involve the tweaking of my finely honed hound body. I too, shall dance in the household! The difference being I shall be a thing of beauty. I shall be, as previously stated, devastatingly graceful.

So I found myself flicking through the humans’ digital music device pod thing looking for something that might provide a suitable soundtrack for the spectacle that was to be. Sighing at their somewhat questionable taste I settled on Chaka Demus and Pliers….