Theyd been mates for what felt like a century, and now he was standing there, asking for a hand.
Tom, I get it, but think about it youre not getting any younger. Where would I even put you? I was a manager once, and now you want me to be a loader? laughed Peter Collins, eyeing the silvertempled man across from him.
George Mitchell gave a weary nod. Hang in there, Tom Ill ring you if something decent shows up. Dont get down, old chap! Well pull through! Peter called out as he left.
It wasnt the first rejection in a fortnight. George had started to expect it, learning to keep his cool even when it stung at first. As they say, a friend is proven in hard times. George had spent his whole career in senior roles, with a long list of contacts. But when trouble knocked, there was no one around.
Just like it often goes, the new boss brought his own crew, and politely but firmly asked George to hand in his resignation. Retirement was just a few months away, but nobody gave a toss. Suddenly he was without a prestigious job or steady pay
George didnt let that get him down. Hed helped plenty of folks around town find work, get into study programmes, sort out other hassles.
David Clarke wont turn his back on me now I helped him out big time once, George told his wife Eleanor as he headed off to another interview.
He came back looking sour and silent. Well, thats a mate for you, he sighed.
Eleanor read the disappointment in his eyes and said, Come on, love, sit down and eat. Whatevers happening, itll work out in the end, while setting plates on the table. George nodded and spent the evening scrolling through his phone, checking the contacts of his best friends.
Help arrived when hed almost given up. An old driver, now the director of a modest meatprocessing plant, took him on.
I can use you as a supply clerk. The jobs busy, but youll manage, he said politely to his former boss.
George was grateful for anything and started the next day.
The little plant sat on the edge of town. Behind a chainlink fence, two burly workers were unloading a truck full of meat. Not far away, a clump of local cats watched the whole spectacle like it was a sacred ritual.
George glanced at the striped whiskered crew, their little faces twitching as they followed the delivery of another treat. Turns out a whole gang of cats lived on the premises, guarding the area from strangers. They were a bit wild and not particularly friendly. Every time George tried to pat one, it either bolted or hissed.
Those are some tough kids, he chuckled, watching the kitchen lady, Maggie, haul leftover bits to the cats.
Yeah, they dont come easy. Even the kittens are a bit aloof, she replied, pointing at a pair of stripey youngsters tussling with their older siblings.
Soon enough George settled in, learning each feline by name. They started to trust the silverhaired man, especially since hed been feeding them regularly. He didnt keep pets at home, but he loved animals and always tried to look after them.
Whenever he stepped out for a smoke, the cats would circle him, eyes bright, hoping hed have something to share.
Six months slipped by unnoticed. Autumn arrived with its damp winds and grey rain. The cats stayed hidden, rarely showing up in the yard, but they never missed a meal.
One day a stray kitten appeared on the factory grounds, keeping to itself. The resident gang didnt bother it, but they didnt attack either. Tiny, thin, black, with a patch missing on its back, the little thing somehow melted Georges hardened heart.
George was outside after lunch, cigarette in hand, when a black, fluffy bundle on skinny legs slipped out from behind a corner straight onto his feet.
Meow, it croaked, sneezing.
What on earth is that? George asked the cats. They looked indifferent. The newcomer didnt match their brownstripe pattern; they were all brownstriped with ambergreen eyes.
The kitten rubbed against Georges leg and started purring.
Look at that, such a sweet little thing, George smiled.
The gangs probably shocked, murmured Maggie, popping up beside him. Our lot keep to themselves, but that ones different.
George, wary of the gang, fetched a piece of sausage and handed it to the kitten, placing smaller bits a short distance away for the others. The other cats lunged at their treats, while the kitten lingered, nosing Georges hand before finally nibbling.
Now weve got a regular, George sang softly, gazing into the kittens eyes. The little cat closed its eyes in contentment.
He started calling the kitten Biscuit and made sure it got a bite before anything else.
Who are you feeding now? Eleanor asked, halfamused.
Its just the little biscuit, you know, tiny and funny, he replied, a little embarrassed.
Maybe you could bring it home? she suggested, though she knew George wasnt a fan of indoor pets.
No, what for? We dont need a cat in the flat, he answered.
Alright, suit yourself, she shrugged.
One bleak, grey morning as George trudged to work, a familiar voice called out, Oi! George, hows it going?
It was Peter Collins, hurrying toward him.
Found a job yet? Peter asked, extending his hand.
George gave a cold look, nodded without taking his hand out of his pocket, and kept walking. Hed long since learned the true cost of their friendship.
Fine, stay warm, Peter muttered, hopping into his car.
Biscuit, now a plump little cat, sat perched on a board by the warehouse entrance, its black coat looking like a spiky brush in the cold.
Not letting you in, are they? Little beasts, George muttered toward the cat shelter where the gang huddled, eyes glinting yellow as they tried to decide if a human meant food.
The radio that day warned of an incoming snowstorm.
Did you hear the forecast, George? Howll you get to work tomorrow? the driver complained, offering a lift home.
By the end of the shift the driver offered George a ride, but the sky was already frosting over with the first flakes.
Dave, can you drop me at the plant instead? George asked, shivering.
The driver shrugged, turned the wheel, and joked, Missing the old job, eh?
George didnt hear another word; he was already heading back to the yard.
Snow now lay a soft blanket over everything. He ran to the board where Biscuit usually lounged and called, Biscuit, biscuit, biscuit! but the kitten didnt appear. The resident cats watched him, wary, as he paced the perimeter, shouting.
Soon a flock of crows settled on the fence, watching the scene as more snow fell.
Biscuit! Where are you? George cried, glancing around anxiously.
The cats, sensing the storm, curled up in their shelter, huddling together for warmth, realizing thered be no feast from George today.
By morning, as the weather reports had promised, the whole town was buried in snow. Residents trudged through deep drifts, commenting on the rare snowfall.
George barely made it to work, a few minutes late like everyone else. The groundskeeper had cleared a path, and the cats peeked out, hopeful for a treat.
George placed a bowl of food outside, saying, Here you go! Biscuit sends his regards, smiling at the wary gang.
He felt a childlike joy, like when you first go down a hill with Mom and Dad. Maybe it was the snow, maybe it was the sight of the little kitten finally emerging from its hideout at the very last moment, his eyes widening as George scooped him up.
Good lad, Biscuit! Finally found you, you little rascal! he laughed, holding the kitten tight as they walked home.
The small cat yawned, sneezed, and clung to Georges coat with its tiny claws, as if scared to lose him.
Eleanor didnt look surprised at all when she saw George at the doorstep with the new addition.
So you finally decided to keep it? she teased.
Yeah I thought hed freeze out there all alone, George said, gently setting the kitten on the floor.
The kitten sniffed the air, whiskers twitching, exploring his new world.
George watched, eyes bright. Eleanor wrapped her arms around her gruff, strict husband, knowing better than anyone how big a soft heart he really had.
The kitten perched on the windowsill, watching the snowfall outside. In the white drifts, the man who had become his friend was returning, the very friend hed chosen.
Their bond was a little different from the usual human friendships, but George and Biscuit both knew there was no room for betrayal, lies, or flattery. It was a friendship worth waiting for and believing in.
