Maria invited some friends over yesterday to observe her snail, Socrates. My wife is unusual, that is not news to me, but I never thought I would ever hear or learn so much about a snail, one of her birthday presents from me.

His every remarkable move is chronicled and discussed. “What’s wrong with you?,” she asked me yesterday, “don’t you want to see Socrates rise up onto the plants.” She photographs him, sketches his, a Socrates potholder series is going on sale in a day or so (you can find it on her new Etsy page.

She is reading a book about snails – “The Sound Of A Wild Snail Eating” –  learning their sleep and mating and eating habits. She is delighted when Socrates finds some algae on the glass to suck on, and I have dreams of Socrates little mouth sucking on the side of the tank.

There is Socrates the photo. Socrates the video. Socrates on the blog. Socrates on You Tube and Instagram. I hear about when he sticks his cute little head of the shell, and when he pulls it in. Frida the goldfish is scolded when she nibbles on Socrates shell, and each morning, there is much exclamation about where Socrates went during the night and how he seems.

On days when Socrates is still, as snails get sometimes, there is much vigilance and concern. What have I done. Why do I keep thinking of the “Shape Of Water?” Maria is convinced that Socrates knows her and performs for floating up and down, sticking his head out of the shell. She has noticed that he does not perform for me.

She says he dances when he sees her.

Come quickly, she says, come and the marks that Socrates makes on the algae he eats, she hopes to somehow get a picture of it. Amazing, I said. You don’t really care, do you?, she asks sometimes, looking at me suspiciously. Of course I do, of course I do.

Her latest video is titled “Socrates, The Snail, Wins My Heart Again.” And again. And again. It might be a movie. It might be a book.

Yesterday, she invited two of her friends – Jackie  and Susan – to come and watch Socrates. The two briefly acknowledged me and then gathered around the tank with fate to admire Socrates, and declare over his many gifts.

I have go now, and pick up the food I’m making for breakfast with some friends. Fresh croissant from the Round House Cafe, and one of my specialities, scrambled eggs with milk, butter, cottage and goat cheese. Maria says she will set the table once she watches Socrates for a while.