I had only been at my computer a few minutes on that first day when I noticed a little gecko lizard sitting on the outside windowsill, right at my elbow. He sat quietly the entire hour I was there, appearing to be watching my computer screen.
I was surprised to see him there the next time I went into the office, and then the next time, and the next, but soon I realized he was there every time. I named him Partner, because that is what he became to me. Always there at my elbow, keeping me company, watching my computer screen. I was never certain what he saw there, but I pretended he was scholarly. He would occasionally bob his head up and down, which I took to mean "Well done. I approve." This "partnership" went on for months and I was getting a kick out of it.
And then the mating season descended upon the Floridian reptiles. My husband and I witnessed dozens of geckos mating, and two snakes in the grass out back. We had a resident alligator in the canal that ran past our house, and had been warned by the locals to be extra wary of him during the mating season.
One day, I looked out the window at Partner and noticed that he was watching, not my computer screen, but a smaller gecko on the sidewalk. He began bobbing his head up and down, not like he did for me, but violently. And his throat became engorged and turned bright red, just like the other male geckos we had seen. He was trying to attract that little female lizard, who, in my humble opinion, was too young for such nonsense. Partner leapt from the windowsill and scurried to her. Out of nowhere a big, fat gecko pounced on her and took her as his own. Partner hurried back to the windowsill, defeated.
That big lizard hung around for weeks, patrolling our sidewalk by clinging to the stucco walls of our house. Several little lady lizards appeared, and Partner bobbed his head off, swelling his little neck as big as he could, only to be outdone by the greedy, over-sexed big guy. I felt sorry for Partner.
On a particularly muggy morning, I went into my office expecting to see my faithful little friend on the windowsill, as always. For the first time since I had moved into that house, he was not there. In his place was a gigantic green grasshopper, four or five inches in length. I imagined the worst, that the grasshopper had eaten my Partner. I have always known grasshoppers eat grass, not meat, but Florida was a different world. I ran to the kitchen and got a Tupperware dish and caught that thing, securing him with the lid, which I poked holes into. I wanted to show it to my husband, knowing he would not believe the size of this insect unless he saw it himself.
Partner did not reappear that day, which only fed my horrified imagination. That night, my husband took the grasshopper far away from the house and released him, while I fretted about my tiny friend. But I needn't have. The next morning, Partner was at his post, waiting for me to return to my computer.
The time came for us to move back to Washington. I really hated to leave Partner behind. I thought of bringing him with us, but knew he would be miserable. There are no geckos here, and he would be lonely. I like to think that he eventually matured into a great big guy like that big bully gecko, and has found a lady (or two) who appreciates him for his great mind. I miss him, but won't ever forget him.
And he doesn't even know.
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