literature

Samson

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Literature Text

He wasn’t familiar with the sound of the car. Maybe if he’d known he would have had time to move, but Samson was a cat who had spent the whole of his life sheltered inside, his whole life up until the day his human had carelessly left the front door open while bringing in her groceries. Samson couldn’t place what had changed in his human in the days before he left, but she had stopped paying nearly any attention to him at all. Under other circumstances, Samson would never have gone outside without his human knowing; he wouldn’t want to worry her, except that on this day he had been sure that she wouldn’t notice. He would be back before she missed him, and if she did somehow notice, then perhaps she might remember to cuddle with him a little more often, maybe even greet him with a fond nuzzle the way she did.
 The problem was that Samson didn’t know how to get back to his human now. In reality, Samson wasn’t even quite sure what had happened to him, other than that he couldn’t move anymore. The car had come upon him so suddenly, he hurt in a lot of places, but that was not his biggest concern. Samson knew his human would be distressed if he didn’t arrive home soon, he knew she would miss him and that when he returned she would be waiting to greet him with a hug, just as she used to do, Samson wanted desperately to hug his human, but he simply could not bring his small body to move.
 The cat let out a small, distressed meow, the kind his human would always answer with a kind voice and a friendly head rub, but there was nothing of the sort this time. This time, Samson realized, he was all alone. He wondered how his human would feel when she realized he wasn’t coming back. He wondered if she would be mad that he had left. That he had failed her by going away on his own, like she thought he never would.
 In a few short moments, Samson longed for everything in his life, his toys, his treats, his soft place on the bed beside his human, snuggled up safe and warm, he especially longed for that now, cold and alone as he was. As some seconds passed he felt almost as he did on those nights when she would get up in the middle of the night, being gone for just minutes before returning to protect him against the cold air. He began to forget where he was, lying in this darkness, and feel as though at any moment she would be there, stroking his ears and telling him again that he was a “good boy”.
 Samson didn’t feel his eyes close, to such a degree that he even still thought them open. He saw the warm comforter of the bed in his home, only faltering when an eye would occasionally flit open without his knowing, but even that soon stopped. He wondered what was taking his human so long as a light began to cover the scene. Morning, he thought, but just as he let out one last soft meow, he felt a gentle hand upon his head, it traveled to his neck, and another joined beneath his hind leg as he was lifted into a familiar embrace. Everything began to fade out.
“Good boy, Samson.”
 And Samson could sleep.
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