...after the first two, 22 years in the military and 25 fighting crime on the mean streets. Excuse the typesetting, I know it sucks (the new O/S).
I just figured out my third career: I will be Second Banana (straight-man) to various feline jokers. First, my cat never ties of trying to cadge me out of an extra meal after the gudwife feeds him and he has gobbled it down in the best Large Orange Cat tradition. He begs by his empty dish and I am tempted just to scoop up some kibble, but I usually ask the missus, whose usual reply is "Fed him two hours ago".
Second, my sweet old neighbor lady's cat, an indoor & outdoor cat. I have my parka on in the rain, doing the weekly garbage cart fill and positioning at the end of my driveway. This poor beast comes up to me, all wet, and begs me to let him in MY house to find some dry and warmth. I finish with the carts and trudge over to the neighbor's and ring her doorbell. On the way over there, the cat races ahead of me and hops up on the park bench on her well-sheltered stoop (we both have these benches for stoop-sitting). I observe numerous paw prints on the faded pain of the bench. When neighbor opens up, she says that she just let the cat out! She tries to get the cat into the house, but it moves a few feet away and snubs both of our offers for it's dry and warm shelter.
On my way next to the mailbox, it hits me: both of these cats know that I can be played for a chump. I think I will try to find an agent to rep me to the greater cat-world...