Story 102: Reza Shadey and the Downing Street Spy
Okay, snuggle down tight, little ones. Let me tell you a tale about the time Reza Shadey's magnificent jealousy took him all the way to the most famous front door in London.
It all began on a chilly morning in Catford. Reza Shadey, magnificent Persian cat and self-appointed Director of Garden Security, was enjoying a mid-morning nap when Mrs Higgins started reading her newspaper aloud.
"Oh, how wonderful!" she chuckled. "Listen to this, Reza! It's all about Larry, the 10 Downing Street cat. It says he's on his sixth prime minister and that he's 'totally the guy to meet in No 10'. Imagine that! It even says he 'loves the red carpet'!"
Reza's eyes snapped open. His purr stopped with a resentful gurgle. A rival? A celebrity cat? A cat who got red carpets?
"Oh, my goodness", Mrs Higgins giggled, still reading. "It seems not everyone is a fan. One MP, Ian Murray, even described Larry as a 'little stinker' because he refused to pose for a photo!"
Reza's magnificent fur bristled with indignation. "Hmph. I am the 'guy to meet' in this post code! I am a guru! A CEO! That Larry is just a... a public servant! Utterly inferior."
Mrs Higgins, intrigued, tapped on her computer. "Let's see what else it says... Oh, this is interesting. Here's an article from a serious-looking website. It says... goodness... that despite his title of 'Chief Mouser', there are 'still reports of mice scuttling around No. 10' and that Larry is 'not on his job' and 'AWOL'!"
Reza leapt from his cushion. The pieces of the puzzle clicked into place with horrifying clarity. It wasn't laziness. It wasn't incompetence. It was conspiracy!
"AWOL?" he hissed to himself. "Mice still present? It's not a failure, it's collaboration! He's not a mouser; he's a double agent! He's working with the mice! He's a SPY!"
Reza continued his internal rant, his mind racing. "He only pretends to help so humans think he's a hero!" "He's 'rarely leaving the doorstep'!" "He's 'too fat and too idle to actually do his job'! A 'welfare dependent fraud!' Probably working for the pigeons. Or worse... Felix the Fox!"
This was a matter of national security. Reza Shadey had to act. He zoomed out of the cat flap and summoned his elite team to the shed.
"Team! Emergency briefing!" he yowled. Penelope, Ginger Tom, and Tiger assembled, looking bewildered.
"We have a national crisis", Reza declared, puffing out his chest. "The nation's 'Chief Mouser' is a fraud! A big fake! A... SPY! We are going to 10 Downing Street to unmask him!"
Penelope tilted her head. "Downing Street, Rezzi? Isn't that a bit far? And isn't he just a lazy cat? Like... well, like Tom?"
Ginger Tom woke up with a snort. "Oi! I'm 'energy efficient', not lazy. Are there snacks in 10 Downing Street?"
Reza nodded gravely. "My intelligence" (the news Mrs Higgins read aloud) "suggests Dreamies are stashed inside the foyer. We will liberate them after we unmask the traitor."
Tiger bounced. "A spy mission! Can I be Agent Floof? Can I pounce on the Prime Minister?"
"No pouncing on ministers, Tiger!" Reza snapped. "We must be subtle. Now, to the train station!"
Getting from Catford to Charing Cross was chaotic. Reza insisted on First Class, but they ended up hiding in the luggage car amongst a pile of suitcases. Tom complained about the lack of a buffet car, and Tiger tried to "pounce" on a rolling suitcase, causing a terrible clatter. Reza just sniffed and pretended this was his "tactical stealth infiltration" all along.
Finally, they arrived. Downing Street. The famous black door of Number 10 was even shinier than Reza's fur. And there he was. Larry. A tabby cat, sunning himself on the step, looking completely relaxed and posing for a nearby photographer.
"Look at him!" Reza hissed from behind a barrier. "Just posing! Such obvious showing off! He's not even pretending to mouse!"
A police officer stood nearby, watching the tourists. Reza took a deep breath. It was time.
He strutted out, his team trailing behind him. He marched right up to the front step, his tail held high like a fluffy sceptre.
"Ahem! Larry, I presume?" Reza announced. "I am Reza Shadey, Chief Strategic Officer of the Catford region. We're here to prove you're in cahoot with the mice!"
Larry, a seasoned political animal, slowly opened one eye. He gave Reza a look of profound boredom. "Never heard of Catford", he meowed, then closed his eye again. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm waiting for a red carpet."
This was the ultimate insult. Reza's fur puffed to twice its normal size. "How dare you! You... you... 'welfare dependent' fraud!" he shrieked.
With a battle cry of "FOR CATFORD!", Reza launched himself at the unsuspecting tabby. Fur flew! Hissing and yowling echoed down the street! Tiger, thinking this was the mission, joyfully pounced on Larry's tail. Penelope hid behind a startled tourist. Tom, smelling snacks, began sniffing the police officer's pocket.
The police officer just sighed and folded his arms, muttering to himself. "Oh no, no. You don't get involved in a cat fight".
The "vicious scrap" lasted ten seconds. Larry, who was known for "public scraps" and had even fought the Foreign Office cat, simply gave Reza a sharp, definitive BAP! on the nose, then sat down and began to wash his paw, looking bored.
Reza skidded to a halt, his fur ruffled, his dignity shattered. He had been defeated. Humiliated. In public!
Just then, a taxi squealed to a stop. Out rushed Mrs Higgins, looking utterly mortified. "Reza Shadey! What on earth do you think you are doing? Apologise to that nice cat this instant!"
Cornered and defeated, Reza did the only thing he could. He performed the Reza rationalisation.
He puffed out his damp chest, shook his fur, and addressed the police officer. "Hmph! Apologise? This was a... a stress test! A planned diplomatic incident! I was testing the response time of your security services and... and your commitment to non-intervention! My findings are... adequate. The so-called spy...", he glared at Larry, "is tougher than expected. My work here is done, you're welcome Britain!"
He tried to strut away, but his tail was momentarily caught on a tourist's camera strap. Mrs Higgins just sighed, bundling Reza, Penelope, Tom, and Tiger into the waiting taxi, apologising profusely to the entire street.
As the taxi drove away, Reza looked out the back window at Larry, who was now napping peacefully on the warm step. "He may have won the battle", Reza muttered, "but I've proved he's all show and no mouse! My mission was a tactical success."
Back home, Reza demanded extra Dreamies for 'services to national security'.
Night night. Sleep tight.