I dutifully pulled out my green shirt (more of a moss green than the traditional Kelly Green, but I look ridiculous in Kelly Green, so I went for more "earthtoney") so that, when I went into Boston, I wouldn't be beaten about the head with sticks for not showing my proper Irish heritage. There is no mistaking me for any other ethnicity. I'm as Irish as Irish can be, b'gosh and b'gorn. Too bad I have no clue whatsoever about the culture, history, or geography of my homeland.

I decided to buy a "pot o' gold" for people at work today, so I stopped by CVS in town before I headed into Boston. Right next to the CVS is a jewelry store, and they had the most beautiful 14k gold claddagh pin in the window. Since Mom doesn't have anything exclusively "Irish" to wear on a regular basis, I figured she could have it for today, and she could wear it on other days, as opposed to the emerald shamrock, which is really only appropriate for this one day of the year. I dropped it off at the lumberyard, and she was thrilled. She put it on her mint green (she has the same coloring as I do) sweater, and it looked, as The Fabulous Robert would say, "gaw-geous!"

Good Son Deed (and Don't Forget That When Thinking About a Price for the House) for the Day done, I headed into Boston to meet with Susanne.

Back when I was seeing Diego, I hated Susanne with an unmitigated passion. I thought she was The Enemy, since she was best friends with the man I (thought I) loved. Somehow, I saw her as a threat, and I treated her as such.

Since sending an apology letter to her a couple months back, we've kept in touch. We have e-mailed one another with the news of the day, or silly jokes we've heard, or events that have happened here and there. Recently, she had minor foot surgery, and told me about hobbling around the house. It was at that time that I decided it might be okay to meet her again. I figured the nice thing to do was visit her while she was trapped in her house (she said that she was very bored).

Because of scheduling difficulties, that didn't happen, but now that she's on her feet, she wants to go for short strolls, so she suggested we get together and go to a bakery down the street from her for lunch.

Today was the day, so I packed up my stuff for work (I worked today to cover Sunday's shift, where I have a "script reading party." As Laurie says, "Hold me back! It sounds so fun!!! Hey, to each his own) and headed into Boston. Since I didn't want to deal with the hassle of finding a parking space (I'd had a rough night the night before...details later in the entry), I just parked in the garage I used to park in when I did improv. I have this thing about parking garages...I love them! Everyone else in the world hates driving in them, but to me, it's like a video game. I don't drive fast or anything (though Laurie might disagree), but I like the tight corners and ramps and stuff. I think it comes from getting my license at age 20. Certain things are still fun for me.

I arrived at Susanne's gorgeous new house, and marvelled at the stained-glass panels in the front doors. "Oh, you've decided to come through the "Church Entrance," she said. She doesn't like the stained-glass, so I'm hoping that when she has it ripped out, I'm there to dumpster-dive. (Somehow, I believe they'll go to a very nice restoration place, but still, a gay boy can hope...)

I said to her husband John, who had gum surgery yesterday ("Welcome to the house of minor surgeries!" he greeted me with), and we chatted for awhile. I got the tour of the place, and was appropriately jealous. John and Susanne have great taste, and a nice home in the city of Boston is something to be jealous over, so I don't mind stating that yes, indeed, I am jealous. If they were a nice gay couple and I was a couple of years younger, I'd apply to be their houseboy.

Anyway, we tottered over to the bakery, where Susanne and I both got the Quiche Lorraine (very good) and chatted about theater and the like. It was extraordinarily natural, and I wondered more than once how I could find anything to dislike about her. Chemicals in the brain are a scary thing, man.

I finally realized that I would be late to my appointment with Jane, so I escorted Susanne home and took off to Jane's office. It's actually a straight shot, once you get on Beacon Street; something I'll have to keep in mind if I want to go shopping or something before an appointment.

At any rate, I think I've solidified a new friendship, and I couldn't be happier about it.

To backtrack, I had a terrible night last night, after the auditions.

I thought I was hot during the auditions because the theater is a small blackbox, and the lights are very close to the stage. When I left, I felt a great relief, with a rush of cool night air hitting me.

It only lasted until I got into the car, where, without the heat on and one window open, I still felt much too warm. I got home, and while I was walking to the back door, I felt a real sense of vertigo. It was as if I were standing on the edge of a really tall building, afraid of falling off. ("Thanks for the definition of "vertigo", Patrick!") I went inside and basically collapsed onto the comfy chair, then got up, grabbed a glass of water and some Tylenol (thinking I had a fever), and collapsed once again.

I waited until Mom was done in the bathroom, and then I rushed upstairs with my computer, brushed my teeth and got into bed, where I wrote my dizzy, fever-induced entry. I was in the middle of writing it when I heard scratching, bumping and crying from downstairs.

I threw on a pair of shorts and ran downstairs, worried that Trooper was having another seizure. It turned out that he was on the kitchen floor and couldn't get up. He looked at me when I got there (a good sign), but whined when I lifted him onto his feet. I led him to the water dish, where he took a couple of sips, then started pacing back and forth between the dining room and the kitchen. His legs were wobbly, and he was panting hard. I don't know if he was just scared or in pain, but I thought the best course of action was to put him in my room, since in that condition, he might try to climb the stairs and fall.

Trooper wasn't happy to be in my room, and I was worried sick over him (not helped by the fact that I felt the room spinning). He kept pawing at the door, but I eventually got him settled on a blanket by the side of my bed. I heard his panting all night long. I woke up at least ten times during the night, just to make sure he was okay.

When Trooper was diagnosed with cancer, the vet gave him six months to live without surgery. Since the surgery was more than half likely to cause chronic incontinence (they would have to remove essentially half his sphincter to get rid of the tumor...sorry if that's TMI), and it would only add an extra six months to his life, and he's fourteen years old, we decided to go without the surgery.

We're heading towards the six-month mark now, and he's failing. I've known he's failing for quite some time, but he's had his moments (quite a few of them, really) where he's been frisky and playful, and seems to enjoy life a whole lot.

We're taking him to the vet on Tuesday, to see what the plan should be. I'm terribly worried that the vet will tell us that Trooper is in pain, and there's nothing we can do. Then again, if she says that he's doing all right and we should monitor him some more, that puts the decision back on us, and it's so hard to tell when it's humane to put an animal down and when he's just plain old.

We'll see what happens. Some small part of me hopes that, one night, he goes to sleep in his favorite spot and we find him the next morning lying there peacefully. It's morbid, but it's reality. He's dying, there's no doubt about that; I just want to make sure his last days (or weeks) are comfortable, happy ones.

It's the only responsible thing to do.

Trooper is, however, still alive and doing quite well today (as am I...going to bed early with the windows partly open seemed to do wonders), so I'm not going to be morbid about it until it's necessary. On to other things.

Like the show.

Like the fact that I got a call at 8:30am about the show.

Like the fact that I got a call at 8:30am about the fact that the casting committee wants me for the lead in the show.

Sigh.

You know, I'm thrilled. It means that I did something different with what's essentially a straight man role (not in the sexual sense, but in the comedy sense) and turned it into something interesting. Or else I was just the right shade of "dull" they were looking for. Either way, I'm the lead in this murder mystery comedy, and of course, I accepted the role. I am, after all, an actor, and offering the "wrong" role to an actor is like offering the "wrong" illegal substance to a crack addict.

"Do you have any crack?"

"No, but I have heroin."

"Oh, sorry. I was looking for crack."

Doesn't happen. So I asked about the hero role and the butler role, but the director really wants me for the leading man role, so I'll do it. I talked about that with Susanne, and she said that it would be a good challenge for me; working with a "normal" character and making him interesting in some way. I think she's right. There are an awful lot of lines for me to play with, and I'm very good at listening and reacting, so I can work on those skills, as well.

Plus, it's a show with nine people in it at a place I like with people I know, so it should be a fun time. I shouldn't have bitched so much last night.

Although the auditions really could have been shorter.

Back to the timeline (I'm shifting around in time more than a Quentin Tarantino film tonight), I went to work so that I could take Sunday off. Since Lara was on-shift as the night supervisor, that meant that I got to play "worker-bee." I sat in my old cube with Laurie, and we had a heck of a time. Laughing and chatting with someone while I'm doing my work makes the day go by so much more quickly, and I really miss that. While I've started to really enjoy being a supervisor, there are definite benefits to being in the back of the room, churning out pages and not worrying about how the shift as a whole is going.

During our down-time (she was training, so she couldn't get involved in a heavy project, and I'm going to another job, so I don't think it's prudent to start something new), I told her of a CD I wanted to make for her as a surprise. However, I was getting stuck, so I 'fessed up, and let her know that, because she owns three kitties, the CD would be nothing but cat songs. Mind you, they have to be decent cat songs, and not children's cat songs (though there is one on our list that we both grew up with, but that's an exception). So far, we have a decent list, but we're looking for others. "Cat" doesn't have to be in the title, but it helps. "Lion", "Tiger", "Cheetah," etc. don't count, because we're dealing with house cats. Here's the list we have so far:

• The Lovecats - The Cure
• Cat House - Danielle Dax
• Carol of the Meows - Guster
• Stray Cat Strut - Stray Cats
• Black Cat - Janet Jackson
• Cat People - David Bowie
• Cats in the Cradle - Harry Chapin
• Leave My Kitten Alone / Three Cool Cats - the Beatles
• Honky Cat / They Call Her the Cat - Elton John
• The Cat Came Back - The Muppets
• The Cat’s In the Well - Bob Dylan
• Year of the Cat - Al Stewart
• The Cat Song - Laura Nyro
• The Cat and the Mouse - Aaron Copeland
• Cat Scratch Fever - Ted Nugent
• The Siamese Cat Song - Disney
• Star Me Kitten - REM(?)
• Cheshire Cat - Blink 182
• Smelly Cat - Friends Soundtrack
• Cool for Cats - Squeeze
• Puss In Boots - Adam Ant
• An Cat Dubh - U2
• Fuck You and Your Cat - Goldfinger
• What’s New Pussycat? - Tom Jones
• Stray Cat Blues - Rolling Stones
• The Cat In The Window (The Bird In The Sky) - Petula Clark
• Walkin' My Cat Named Dog - Norma Tanega
• Tom Cat - The Rooftop Singers
• Nora's Cat - Joe Mesiano
• The Kitty Cat Song - Lee Dorsey
• Alley Cat - Bent Fabric & His Piano
• The Pussy Cat Song (Nyow! Nyot Nyow!) - Jo Stafford and Gordon MacRae
• Feline - Bobby McFerrin

If you have any suggestions, please leave them in the comments area. Remember: no children's songs, and please, for the love of all that's holy, nothing from Cats.

Lara let us out early, but Stephanie told me that Chris had called and told her that the power was out in our side of town. I'm typing this by candlelight.

Stephanie said she wasn't tired and would be bored out of her skull sitting at home alone in the dark, so I invited her over to watch Drop Dead Fred (which I bought today for six bucks at Best Buy) on my laptop. Though it wasn't a fun St. Patrick's Day out on the town, I think she had a good enough time. She thought the movie was funny, but I know she found it a bit stupid. Hell, anything with Rik Mayall is funny but a bit stupid. That's what I love about that film.

I have to get up early tomorrow morning so that I can get to a morale committee meeting, but I'm determined to post this before St. Patrick's Day is over. I think I'll take a car trip to Laurie's house and use her network to get access to the internet. It should take me just a few minutes to upload, and then I can head back home and enjoy the darkness and silence. I think I can set my cell phone to wake me up in the morning. I'll leave my shade up, just in case.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

The author sits and writes by candlelight, and is happy that he bought the extra battery for his computer and digital camera.

Clery's? Must be a distant relative. I was going to go into this pub and tell them the proper spelling of the last name, but I thought it best they keep with what they know.