Yesterday I was standing at the kitchen sink, refilling the dogs' water
Switching off the faucet, I turned my body away from the sink. Immediately my legs were twisted; both feet dug underneath Charley's considerable body, pinning them nicely while my upper body continued forward motion.
And then I danced.
To the breathless tune of "oh no! oh no! oh no! oh no ..." I lurched around the kitchen, fighting for control of my body and the water bowl.
Yes, the mop was required later, but I did stay on my feet and eventually made it to my destination with the still mostly filled water bowl.
I call it The Charley Dance.