Week 7.5 - That's some guard dog

My animals think I'm nuts. They probably thought that before, actually, but now I'm positive they think they have proof. It's weird... they'll normally ignore me all day long unless they want something, but the second I pick up the sword, I gain an audience of three, no matter where I go. If I head to the front yard, the dog and two cats, none of whom get along normally, all line up at the window to watch. If I go out back or on the porch, the dog comes with me, and the cats sit at the door or on the windowsills to watch. It's a little creepy. I half think they're watching to be sure I don't slice something off that interferes with dinner time. Or maybe they're hoping that I do....

Tonks is enjoying our increased exercise, but not the fact that half of it doesn't involve him. Mostly now, he just sits on the table on the porch as I practice my drills. I'll be pushing my oxes off the roof, having them land on fools and dragging plows, and I'll turn suddenly to see the fuzzy pup with his head tilted to the side, eyebrow cocked like he's seriously worried about my mental stability. He's just as nuts though, so I went back to my drills.

A short while later, I was taking a quick break from my absetzens (which are no longer practiced on doorknobs, since that was totally not useful) and stacking chairs to get them under cover for winter. As I came back up the porch stairs, I had to grab my camera. Tonka apparently decided that I'd done enough practicing for one day. I snapped a pic and sent it to a friend, who declared:

that is one SERIOUS guard dog

I finished with the chairs and went back to practicing. My footwork is awful. I keep getting accused of having 'fairy feet,' which I wish meant I shared some kind of delicate quality with Tinkerbell, but really seems to mean 'moving with a great sense of uncertainty.' That's pretty accurate really, since I've no idea how I'm supposed to move. As a four-year old ballerina, I played a duck and a shamrock in our dance performances- neither of which are known for grace of movement. I tried to remember my ballet lessons, but that was a long, LONG time ago. So I muddled through, trying to move with purpose, stepping through and whatever else I was told in practice but can't seem to do. I thought maybe it would be easier without trying to concentrate on sword movements as well, so set the sword back on the table and focused on not tripping myself as I tried to pivot (note to self: Docs are not good for pivoting). Turning on the spot for what seemed like the fiftieth time, I looked up to see a very forlorn-looking furball:

aren't you done practicing yet?

How could I resist? He doesn't care if I have fairy feet. So I quit for the day, and we went out for ice cream.