By Jim Hagarty
“Does anyone know where Luigi is,” is the oft-asked question in our house regarding the whereabouts of one of our elusive cats. His twin brother Mario conceals himself, all day long, in plain sight.
“Hang on, I’ll find him,” I call back.
Then I reach over from the computer table and lightly slam the door to the basement. In less than four seconds, Luigi will extricate himself from his hideout and appear at the door. He cannot stand to see that door closed. Beyond that door lies his food dish, waterbowl and that little enclosure we affectionately call (all us being Christmas Vacation fans) the shitter.
The opposite also works. If Luigi is in the basement, and I want him to come upstairs, I don’t bother calling him. I just close the door to the basement. Four seconds later, “Scratch, scratch, scratch.” And presto. There he is.
A friend told me many years ago the cat is always on the wrong side of the door.
What a wise woman she is.
