The next day

Although shaken by the news the previous night that Sampson was moving into my territory, I was determined to have a good day at the newspaper. This was, afterall, my chance to jump-start a career that had descended into chaos since I was laid off two years ago.

Unemployment and two poor-paying reporting jobs working for micromanagers had put me in this position. I couldn't let 25 years of banging my head against newsroom walls just slip away, even if it meant working as a sports editor in south Texas.

The day started as all days have started recently. The piercing and rapid-fire hooting of an owl jolted me out of slumberland. I then moved ever so slightly, expecting to be either stiff, sore or nearly incapacitated by back pain.

Remarkably, I felt no pain when I shifted from my back to my side even though last night's twinge had left me expecting the worse. After rolling gently out of bed, I found the cell phone and made a call. After several rings, I got the "Hi, it's Stacy's cell phone" greeting and grumbled to myself that she was probably feeding or walking Sampson, the lucky dog.

After a quick breakfast and even quicker shower, I was driving to work marveling at the number of big trucks Texans drive and the even bigger people stuffed into the cabs. It was already hot and humid outdoors and the pace of life reflected that. Everyone seemed to be moving in slow motion.

No one was moving too fast at the newspaper either, except for the brass who were preparing for the emergency meeting. Then the building came to life as the word spread quickly.

Nine people had been laid off that morning. The rest of us would learn our fates at 2 p.m.

After telling us how valuable we were and that they had hired some top-notch advertising talent, we learned that our pay would be cut anywhere from 5 to 10 percent. My reduction was 6 percent. We also learned our insurance co-pays and deductibles would rise as well.

To the graveside refrain of at least we have a job, a solemn crowd filed out of the meeting without saying hardly a word. What's going to happen next I wondered as I sat down at my computer ready to deal with the sporting needs of Hallettsville, Yoakum, Edna, Cuero and other places I never knew existed until three months ago.

As I checked my e-mail, I noticed that my dear, sweet wife had sent me four e-mails, all with pictures of Sampson.