(I led heem borrow the passwor')

Guest Post by the Smoothman

Having been officially designated Personal Interim Manager of Don Estorbo's Estate and Assets, I regret to inform you all that I am not at liberty to disclose confidential factors, including but not limited to, the nature of these assets, their value, investment strategy or rate of return, nor can I reveal the identity of key partners without a signed agreement and waiver of feline and human liability.

I can and will say that Estorbo and I have been meeting twice daily to discuss his practical and economic goals, establish a budget, design a safety net, set aside a treat-and-goodies spending bucket, investigate specific market portfolios, verify his health insurance coverage, map out his retirement plan, draft a will and review his nap time and litter box results.

It is not always easy. The kitty, I mean, He, comes from a ghetto bodega. He grew up with nothing. His recent status and success are only the consequence of relentless hard work, dedication to blogging and the occasional bribe. But there are many complex concepts he still struggles to grasp.

He is driven, however, and insists on studying the lives of his greatest idols, the late Steve Jobs, early President Obama, Señor Coconut and Bagheera the Panther to name a few. "Success leaves clues," he says. "I will be the Sherlock cat of my generation and you can be my Dr. Watson." He is hoping to be selected for a talk on TED. He already has a topic. "How I survived the unattractive grey box and created a Paypal account in 15 minutes."

So he grows more and more concerned about finances. For instance this morning, he was asking about investing. I tried to explain things in simple terms and street-smart pictures.

"Money in your pocket," I said, "is always the quickest to go. Think of it as the pellets already in your bowl. A great sight, a good feeling but the next thing you know they are gone and you are still chewing."

He nodded and purred a bit.

"Then," I continued, "there is your bank account. Money there is safer, as the effort to reach it is greater. It will last longer and allows you to plan ahead."

He was listening carefully, having perked up at the mention of something lasting longer.

"So the bank is like your bag of Wellness-Indoor Health pellets under the kitchen sink," I added.

I stroked him under the chin for a while. No, this is not me sucking up to the big boss, it's part of symbiotic business relationship.

"Finally, there are investments. These are the tricky kind. They are volatile, subject to market moods and they can turn against you like a raccoon backed up in a corner."

Estorbo's both ears were now standing straight. He once had a violent encounter with a raccoon and to this day, the outcome remains unclear.

"Investments would be the pellets you spit out when you eat too fast and which roll out of sight under a ledge or the carpet, and are left there to prosper or rot. You forget about them for a while and might some day have a wonderful surprise, or a big disappointment."

"So what happens when I get sick or throw up a fur ball?" he asked to conclude the briefing.

"That," I said, "is a Stock Market crash. You thought you were wise, secretly liquidating your furry assets, and then bang, something goes wrong, the whole thing blows up in your face and all your pellets shoot out!"