I took the rule for lost creatures too literally and refused to leave a cardboard maze. In my enclosure, I wanted to fetch a piece of apple and return to my favorite branch. Olena, my keeper, stood nearby while a guide behind the glass told some children that anyone who got lost should stay put. “Search, Kwame,” Olena said, placing the apple between the boxes. Humans are especially convincing when giving instructions they will not have to follow.

I entered the maze, picked up the apple, and turned around, but a cardboard flap fell and blocked the entrance. I could no longer see the way back, which meant that under the rule I had just heard, I was officially lost. I sat down exactly where I was and finished the apple. Waiting for help is much more comfortable when snacks are involved.

Olena placed a grape near another exit because she decided I had misunderstood the task. I understood it perfectly, so I did not even stand up. A second grape appeared beside the first, followed by a nut, and then Olena opened a side panel. This was beginning to resemble an evacuation with table service. I merely turned my head toward each offering and watched a respectable lunch gather on the floor, where sound human advice prevented me from approaching it.

When Olena brought my evening bowl, I decided to make myself easier to locate. Without shifting my back paws, I braced the cardboard with my front paws and chewed a hole through the wall. Then I pushed my head out: I was clearly visible now, so I could no longer be considered lost. I tore the cardboard wider and walked to the bowl by myself, although a square frame remained around my neck. To keep it from hitting the floor, I turned sideways and ate dinner that way. I had followed the rule perfectly; comfort simply was not included.