But he's not waving his tail in time to the music

Still not feeling the blogging bug (or, it seems, any other writing bugs this morning) so, in the meantime, here is a dancing dog:

I like that the tail is waving to an entirely different beat through most of this.

The Eleventh Doctor

So I finally had a chance to watch the first couple of episodes of the current season of Doctor Who. So far, I like Doctor Eleven, although he gives me a slight sense of – what is it? Ah, yes, disorientation. Because for the first time in on and off Doctor Who watching going back to about 1983, when I did not like the show at all (sorry, classic Doctor Who fans; if it helps any, my then-taste in television was atrocious, and this really should not be taken as a judgement of the show's quality) I feel distinctly older than the Doctor. Of course, to state the obvious, I'm older, and also, of course, the actor is significantly younger than the usual Doctors (and looks it), and to state the less obvious, I'm not sensing the great wisdom that others are claiming to see in his eyes. But that could be just me.

But I am falling into absolute adoration of the new companion, Amy (it distinctly helps that she's not Donna, who just irked me on every appearance), and the very nice background of need and distrust already built between the two.