once upon a time, there lived a handsome tabby supermodel in a village called Novato. One day, the tabby asked his assistant if he could check out his agent who lived in a village on the other side of the forest, and his assistant said, “Of course, Tabs. You have a non-exclusive contract and can check out your agent any time you want, but please be careful, and don’t dilly-dally, because the forest can be a hazardous place. Go straight there, and text me when you arrive so I know you’re alright.”

“Sure, sure,” said the tabby. “Peace out.”

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But when the tabby observed a bird’s nest high up in a tree, he forgot his pledge to his assistant. He enjoyed the birds flit about, listened to some chirping and even attempted, unsuccessfully, to climb the tree.

The tabby was enjoying the day so much that he wandered off the trail and became lost.

He tried retracing his steps, but that only led him in a circle. “Man, this sucks,” said the tabby, “and I can’t even get a signal on my phone!”

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Just when he was starting to worry if he was ever going to have another can of gravy, the tabby heard a familiar sound.

“Tabs! Tabby! Where are you?”

It was the voice of his assistant calling to him in the distance, and he immediately followed it back home.

When he walked up to the door, it opened, and there stood his assistant. “When you didn’t text me,” she said, “I called your agent. What happened to you? Where did you go?”

“I’m the CFO [Chief Feline Officer] of this company. I can go wherever I want,” said the tabby, and his assistant frowned.

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Secretly, though, the tabby was relieved and grateful. His assistant may have saved his life, or at least his night. It’s true what they say: good help is hard to find.

Your friendly neighborhood appeal addict,

Karen