By Jim Hagarty
A man plays many roles in his life.
I once roamed the halls of businesses and institutions as a man of some worth. I hired people. I fired people. I stood before rooms full of people and delivered lectures.
But that is all behind me now.
These days, as best I can figure, my position in the scheme of things is Doorman to the Cats. I open doors they cannot open, close doors behind them. Then reopen the doors I just closed once they realize I just closed the doors behind them.
It doesn’t pay much. I don’t get any applause. No one has handed me an award lately.
But somebody’s gotta open those goddamned doors. Seems like that someone is me.
I am very good at it. Except for those rare occasions when the tail is not yet quite through the doorway before I close the door. Those occurrence are always merely accidental, you understand.
We have two cats. They are brothers. Mario and Luigi. Mario can let himself out the back door screen door, leading to calls from the human inhabitants, when we hear the door slam behind him, “Mario has left the building.” Luigi can’t let himself out that door. But he can somehow let himself in, an art Mario has yet to master.
As long as we have them, I guess, there will always be work for The Doorman.
