Invisibles

Acadia and I spent most of March and part of April in Sanford, NC. I was doing a show there while she slept on various window sills and drank from various faucets, a routine that continued without significant interruption until the day of our departure, by which time she’d gone almost 36 hours without eating. DEFCON 1 authorized.

We ended her fast with a last-minute intervention at the local animal hospital where she was x-rayed, injected, palpated and thoroughly violated with a big blue rectal thermometer. I don’t know what all she’s got going on back there, I’ve never looked closely, but I guess it’s safe to assume that she’s no longer a virgin.

She is eating again, however, so maybe the experience wasn’t as bad as she made it sound, which was pretty goddam awful. Boy howdy.

Anyway …

That same week, I’d thrown a pro bono headshot party, one of my signature events without food or entertainment, for members of the Temple Theatre staff. It had been a low-pressure way for me to break in some new equipment, and a no-cost way for Temple to upgrade some of the photography on its website. Win-win, as the saying goes. But the thank-you gift that I found waiting for me at my dressing table afterward is the point of this story. A six-pack of gluten-free hard cider – my favorite brand- and a bag of treats for my gastrointestinally mysterious companion.

And picked out by the master electrician, I’m told, though he claimed no credit.

So often it’s the little things, you know? The tiny visibles that signify the bigger unseens.