I have always been fascinated by anatomy. In high school A & P we learned about body systems, the way biological creatures are constructed, their parts fitting together in an impossible and organic puzzle. We dissected numerous critters, labeling and memorizing organs, muscles, joints, and veins. I'd often look at my end-of-the-course subject (a large tom cat) and wonder about where the biological supply company got him, was he euthanized properly, did he feel pain? I wondered if animals feel pain the way we do. I'd had enough brushes with injury, a massive surgery for a destroyed knee, to know what terrible pain felt like.
"Can I pimp out your cane?" The familiar question is posed by a 9-year-old.
It isn't just a youthful wish. People are predictable in their desire to improve my cane's appearance. The building assistant wants to paint it, an aunt wants to bejewel it, a friend wants to crochet a sleeve for it; like a giant furry condom for an incredibly long, hard, and thin appendage.