My father used to chase Firstcat down the kitchen corridor which had Lino for all of its length. (It was a ritual they had.) Firstcat would do a sort of three paw drift/scrabble into the kitchen on the left and then run for his hidey hole. ( Also part of their ritual.)
Unfortunately, my mother decided to buy a polishing machine one day and in a fit of unwonted houseproudness, decided to polish the whole corridor to a high glassy shine. Father chased Firstcat as normal but when he approached the open kitchen door on his left, he went into his 'turn' and - getting no purchase on the high gloss polish - flipped over onto his backside and sailed, on his backside, down the rest of the corridor until he landed in a heap of dirty clothing on the laundry floor.
He wasn't hurt but his pride took an almighty battering. He didn't speak to the family for the longest time! 