They had been friends for what felt like a century, and now Samuel Whitfield stood before Peter Whitaker, asking for a favour.
Sam, I get it, but think about your age. What can I do for you? You were a director once, and now you want me to be a warehouse hand? Peter chuckled, eyeing the silverhaired man.
Samuel gave a weary nod. Hang in there, Sam Ill ring you if something worthwhile turns up. Dont get down, mate well pull through! Peter called out as he left.
It wasnt the first rejection Samuel had faced in two weeks. Hed started to accept it, learning to keep his temper in check, though at first it had knocked the wind out of him. They say a friend is known in adversity, and Samuel Whitfield had spent a lifetime in senior roles, gathering a large circle of acquaintances. When trouble struck, however, no one was there.
As often happens, a new boss arrived with his own crew, and Samuel was politely yet firmly asked to tender his resignation. Retirement was a stones throw away, but that mattered to no one.
Suddenly, the prestigious job and steady income evaporated. Samuel could have been despondent, but he remembered the many people in his hometown of Leeds he had helped find work, finish studies, or solve other problems.
Kirby wont turn me down, he told his wife, Emma, before heading to yet another interview. I helped him out back in the day.
The interview left him brooding and silent. Even a friend can be a stranger, he sighed.
Emma read the worry in his eyes and, with a gentle smile, said, Come, sit down, love. Everything happens for a reason, while laying a plate on the table. Samuel nodded, then spent the evening scrolling through his phone, checking the contacts of his best friends.
Help arrived when Samuel was about to give up. An old driver, now the managing director of a modest meatprocessing plant on the outskirts of town, offered him a job as a supplies coordinator.
I can take you on as a buyer. Its a busy role, but I think youll manage, he said politely to his former boss.
Samuel gratefully accepted any work and started the next day. The plant lay behind a high fence, where two burly workers emptied a delivery of meat. Nearby a small troupe of local cats watched the ritual with keen interest.
Samuel glanced at the striped felines, their whiskered faces following each new crate. Later he learned that the factorys grounds were home to an entire gang of cats who kept strangers at bay. They were a bit skittish and often hissed when he tried to pet them.
The lot here are a tough bunch, Samuel laughed as he watched cook Zinnia carry leftovers to the cats. Theyre not the friendliest lot, even the kittens are aloof, Zinnia replied, nodding toward a pair of striped youngsters darting between the older cats.
In time Samuel grew accustomed to the place and learned each cats name. They, too, came to trust the silverhaired man, for he often tossed them bits of food. Though he never kept pets at home, Samuel loved animals and always tried to look after them.
Whenever he stepped outside for a smoke, the cats would gather cautiously, watching his eyes for any offering. Six months drifted by unnoticed.
Autumn arrived with its damp winds and grey rain. The cats hid more often, but never missed a meal. One day a lone, skinny black kitten with a patch on its back appeared, set apart from the rest of the gang. The other cats kept their distance, yet did not attack.
Samuel was on his usual postlunch smoke break when the kitten, a tiny bundle of fur on thin legs, waddled up to him.
Meow, it croaked, sneezing.
Whats this miracle? Samuel asked the cats, who stared indifferent. The rest of the gang were brownstriped with yellowgreen eyes, while this little one was clearly different. The kitten rubbed against Samuels leg and purred.
Look at himso gentle, Samuel smiled.
Their own kind wont accept him, said Zinnia, the cook, but hes not been hurt. Its odd they havent done anything to him yet. She glanced at the gang, who watched the scene with thin curiosity.
Samuel fetched a piece of sausage for the kitten, placing treats a short distance away for the other cats. They scrambled greedily for the food, while the kitten lingered, sniffing Samuels hand before finally eating.
From then on Samuel named the kitten Biscuit and made it a habit to feed him first, then tend to his own duties. Emma raised an eyebrow.
Who are you feeding? she asked.
Its a little cat, justthesame, tiny and funny, Samuel replied, a hint of embarrassment in his voice.
Maybe you could bring him home? Emma suggested, knowing Samuel usually opposed indoor pets.
No, why would we need a cat? she heard herself say.
Just you know, Samuel muttered.
One chilly morning, as Samuel trudged to work through a grey sky, a familiar voice called out.
Sam! Good to see you!
Peter Whitaker hurried toward him, breath forming clouds.
Got a job yet? Peter asked, extending his hand.
Samuel gave a cold glance, nodded, and kept his hands in his pockets, walking past without shaking. He had learned the cost of that friendship long ago.
Wild as ever, Peter muttered, hurrying to his car to escape the cold.
Biscuit sat, huddled, on a wooden plank at the warehouse entrance, his black coat prickling like needles in the frost.
Dont they let you in? Samuel growled mildly at a nearby insulated shed where the cat gang lounged, their eyes glinting yellow, waiting to see if a human would feed them.
The radio announced a snowstorm heading for the city that night.
The forecast says a foot of snow tomorrow. How will you get to work? the driver joked, offering Samuel a lift home. The sky darkened, and the first flakes fell on the pavement.
Actually, could you drop me at the plant instead? Samuel asked suddenly.
The driver shrugged and turned the wheel. Missing work, eh? he laughed, pulling up at the gate.
Samuel didnt hear the comment. He rushed back to the yard, where snow now blanketed the ground in a thin white coat. He called out, Biscuit! Biscuit! but the kitten didnt appear. The resident cats watched warily as Samuel paced the perimeter, shouting for his tiny friend.
Soon the gang of cats surrounded him, two crows perched on the fence, peering down as snow kept falling. Biscuit! Where are you? Samuel cried, glancing anxiously around.
The cats, sensing the storm, retreated to their shelter, curling together for warmth, understanding that no food would come from him now.
By morning, as the weather forecast had promised, the whole city lay under a thick blanket of snow. Residents trudged through deep drifts, commenting on the rare sight.
Samuel, late as always, arrived at work after the groundskeeper had cleared the paths. The cats peeked out from their haven, eyes bright for any offering.
Samuel placed a treat in front of them. Here you go! Biscuit sends his regards, he said gently, watching the wild group keep their distance.
A warm feeling rose in his chest, reminding him of childhood trips up a hill with his parents. Perhaps it was the snow, or perhaps it was the simple joy of being needed.
Later, as the storm eased, Biscuit finally emerged from his hiding spot. Samuel, surprised, scooped the trembling kitten into his arms, holding him close.
Good lad, Biscuit! You finally came out, he whispered, his voice soft.
The kitten yawned, sneezed, and clung to Samuels coat with tiny claws, as if fearing he might disappear.
Emma, seeing Samuel at the door with the new family member, asked with a teasing smile, Decided to keep him?
Yes. I cant let him face the snow alone, Samuel replied, setting the kitten gently on the windowsill where he could watch the white world outside.
Biscuit stared out, his eyes following the endless white, while Samuel watched him, his own eyes shining. Emma wrapped her arms around her oftenstern husband, knowing better than anyone the kindness that lay beneath his tough exterior.
The friendship that blossomed between the sturdy man and the tiny kitten was different from any human bond, yet it was founded on trust, loyalty, and an absence of deceit. It reminded Samuel that even in the coldest winters, a small act of compassion can melt the hardest hearts.
In the end, he learned that true friendship, whether between people or animals, thrives on patience, generosity, and the willingness to look beyond appearanceslessons that warm the soul long after the snow has melted.
