Story 3: Reza Shadey Moves His Bed
Okay, snuggle down tight, little ones. Let me tell you a tale about a very cheeky and magnificently fluffy cat who thought he was the boss of everything — including his poor, hardworking friends.
Reza Shadey was a dashing Persian cat with a coat of soft brown and inky stripes, and bright green eyes that twinkled with trouble. He lived in a cosy house with his human, Mrs Higgins, in a cheerful neighbourhood in Catford, where he somehow got everything done without lifting a paw. Except for one day...
Reza absolutely loved his bed. It was soft and round, like a cuddly doughnut, perfect for curling up after a hard day of plotting how to pinch extra snacks from the neighbours. Usually, it sat in a sunny spot in the living room, catching the best sunbeams for his magnificent naps.
But one morning, Reza woke up with a huff. He stretched his paws, gave a mighty yawn, and declared to no one in particular, "Hmph! This spot is all wrong! The light is too bright, or too dim, or something. My bed simply must go to the dining room. Yes, definitely. It will be far superior there — more regal, more me!"
He hopped up and puffed out his chest until his fur looked like a giant brown cloud, then put his shoulder against the fluffy side. "Grunnnt!" he pushed. The bed wobbled a tiny bit. But it did not budge. He tried shoving with his head. "Oof!" Still nothing. It was much heavier than it looked — probably from all the biscuits hidden under the cushion.
Reza stepped back, flicking his tail in annoyance. "This requires more paws", he muttered thoughtfully. "Delegation is key to any great empire. After all, why strain my magnificent self when associates are available?"
Out he slipped through the cat flap, his eyes scanning the garden like a king surveying his subjects. There was elegant Penelope, the fluffy white cat, delicately washing her face with her calm, sensible eyes half-closed. And Ginger Tom, the sturdy orange cat, staring at a fence post as if it owed him money.
"Meeeow! Friends!" purred Reza sweetly, sauntering over with his most charming smile. "I have a very important job inside. A mission of utmost urgency! I need your help, my loyal associates. And there might even be... extra biscuits later? From my secret stash, of course. The crunchiest ones!"
Penelope paused her washing, blinking slowly. "What are you up to now, Rezzi?" she asked in her soft, elegant purr, already suspecting trouble. Ginger Tom turned, his whiskers twitching. "Wot is the plan, guv'nor?" he mumbled. Extra biscuits did sound proper tempting.
Reza's eyes widened with feigned excitement. "Just follow me! It is a groundbreaking venture — Reza Shadey's Bed Relocation Enterprises!" He led them back through the cat flap, pointing a regal paw at his doughnut bed. "We must move this magnificent throne to the dining room. It requires great strength and skill — which you two have in spades. Think of the glory... and those biscuits!"
Penelope and Ginger Tom exchanged a glance. Penelope sighed softly — she knew Reza's schemes usually ended in a bushy crash. But extra biscuits? Well, a cat had to eat.
"Alright, Rezzi", Penelope said gracefully. "But let's get it done properly."
"Yeah, let's 'ave a crack at it", Ginger Tom grumbled, rolling his shoulders.
The two cats got on one side of the bed, paws planted firmly. Reza stood back, of course, to "supervise". He paced like a furry foreman, tail held high. "Ready? Push!" he commanded.
Penelope and Ginger Tom heaved. "Heave-ho!" grunted Ginger Tom. The bed scraped slowly across the floor. "Scraaaape!"
"A little to the left!" barked Reza, not lifting a paw. "Now straight ahead! Mind the table leg! Bump! Oops! Keep going, associates! You are doing splendidly — under my expert guidance!"
They puffed and panted, their fur ruffled and messy, while Reza flicked his tail and offered "helpful" comments. "Faster now! Imagine it is full of salmon — that should motivate you!"
Finally, with one last mighty shove, they got the bed to the middle of the dining room. "There!" panted Ginger Tom, shaking his fur like a wet mop. "Biscuits now...?"
Reza Shadey circled the bed dramatically, sniffing here and there, his green eyes narrowing. He glanced back at the living room, where the sunbeam still danced invitingly on the empty floor.
"Hmm", he said slowly, drawing it out like a true actor. "Actually... I think I preferred it where it was before. The sunbeam was much nicer there. Far more suitable for a Boss like me. Also it showed off my fur rather well."
Penelope stared, her calm eyes widening. Ginger Tom's whiskers twitched like they were on fire. "You wot? You want us to push it back?!" growled Ginger Tom.
Reza shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, it was better... Delegation, remember? Chop chop!"
But Penelope and Ginger Tom just glared. "No thank you, Rezzi", Penelope said calmly. "I think you've had enough assistance for one morning."
"Yeah, stuff yer biscuits, guv", added Ginger Tom. "We are off."
They turned tail and marched out the cat flap, leaving Reza alone with his misplaced bed.
Reza looked at his doughnut throne in the shady dining room. No sunbeams, no warmth — just a cold floor and a lesson staring him in the face. He glanced back at the empty sunny spot in the living room.
"Oh bother", he sighed, hopping in and curling up.
"Maybe I should have helped push", he sighed. Then he brightened slightly. "On the other paw... if I recruit three assistants next time, efficiency will increase dramatically."
For once, his grand self-image cracked a bit. He had manipulated his friends, bossed them about, and now he was stuck with the consequences. He had made his bed, and now he had to sleep in it — a chilly, unsatisfactory one at that.
And that is why, little ones, we say: Don't be such a Reza Shadey — or you might end up stuck with a bed in entirely the wrong place.
Night night. Sleep tight.