You Can Grow Old With Me

AuthorHouse

Chapter One

A blue lizard named Lizzy slept in the sun's rays. Lizzy sensed something watching him. He flinched. The cat leapt the short distance, swatting Lizzy's tail as he raced for the safety of a pile of granite rocks. The cat tried to catch him, but she was too late. Lizzy had tucked himself further back under the rocks.

Smiling, the black cat relaxed in the hot sun. She just wanted to play, but Lizzy did not trust her playful intentions. The cat was born on this high hillside plateau and she knew her surroundings well. Bald eagles and red-tailed hawks flew above her. She listened for signs of danger. Like Lizzy, she did not trust the birds' intentions. She trusted only herself. Life in the desert was challenging.

She lived outside through the blazing summer heat. She lived outside during winter's freezing temperatures. She survived by living underneath a log cabin. Her first owners would not allow her to come inside the log cabin. They did not trust her. They thought she would ruin their belongings. They placed her food outside. But what the owners did not understand was that in the desert it was first come, first served. She often had to race to the food dish before the other animals and birds gobbled it up. Her owners did not hold, pet or play with her. When they saw her, they shooed her away. This spooked the silky black cat, causing her to not trust them. So she kept her distance-even though she still needed to feel loved.

One windy fall day the desert sand whipped around the log cabin, as I moved in my belongings. The owners told me a nameless black cat would need food and water. I agreed to become the cat's caretaker. The first week at the cabin, I was busy unpacking, making my new home warm and inviting. Across the desert landscape I watched for the black cat. Fall was coming to a close—leaves had fallen to the ground. Lizzy had retreated to his winter rock cave. There was still no sign of the black cat. Was she watching me? Was she wondering if I could be trusted?

I snuggled onto the couch in the cozy cabin, reading in silence. Moments later, I heard a dry, hoarse sound, "Meow, meow." Excited, I looked up from my book. I saw a little black whiskered face and paws on the window sill. "Meow, meow," she cried with a crackled, high-pitched voice. Therefore, I named her "M'ow."

Slowly, I opened the squeaky door. The noise scared her, and she ran off. I placed a bowl of cat food outside on a doormat that read, "Welcome." I left the door ajar, hoping that she would trust me and wander inside. She returned to her food dish only after the wind had slowly closed the door. Trusting each other would take time.

Indeed, it did take time. M'ow gradually made her way through the front door. She hid under the couch, under the bed and under the staircase. Though I knew she was in the cabin, I wanted her to make herself at home. I wanted her to trust me. Little by little, she began to eat her meals in the cabin. Little by little, she trusted me enough to sleep indoors. Little by little, she stopped running away. It took an entire year before she allowed me to pet her. If I moved too quickly, though, she would skedaddle and hide. She was still learning to trust. In stages, and on her own, M'ow slowly came to believe I loved and cared for her.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from You Can Grow Old With Meby C. Marchi Copyright © 2011 by C. Marchi. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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