Story 12: Reza Shadey and the Great Cat Swap
Reza Shadey, the fluffiest, most fantastically self-important Persian cat, had a problem. He had his favourite sunbeam, his favourite cushion, and his favourite human, Mrs Higgins. But he didn't have everyone else's favourite things — and that, he decided, was a serious oversight that simply had to be corrected.
His magnificent gaze fell upon an old, slightly dented tin can lying by the recycling bin. A lesser cat might see rubbish. Reza saw... an opportunity. He picked it up, polished it with his tail, and strutted into the garden like a general returning from a grand expedition.
"Gather round, my simple-minded subjects!" he yowled. Penelope, Ginger Tom, and Tiger padded over, curiosity shining in their eyes. Reza held up the tin.
"Behold! Not just a can, but an ancient Persian wishing tin! An heirloom from my royal ancestors! It grants wishes... of the snack variety!"
Penelope's elegant whiskers twitched. "Really, Rezzi? A magic tin?"
Ginger Tom's tummy rumbled. Tiger bounced in place. "Does it wish for bouncy balls?" he asked, full of hope.
Reza purred, his voice dripping with charm. "This tin can summon anything your heart desires! Penelope, imagine an endless stream of the most delicate salmon pâté! Tom, a lifetime supply of the crunchiest fish-shaped biscuits! And Tiger... a squeaky mouse that never stops squeaking!"
The cats' eyes went wide.
It sounded too good to be true!
"But", Reza whispered, lowering his voice to a dramatic hush, "the magic only works if you trade it something you truly love. A small price for infinite happiness!"
One by one, they fell for his scheme. Penelope gave up her perfect, sunny spot on the warm garden wall. Tom reluctantly handed over his secret stash of toys. Even little Tiger traded his brand-new, extra-scratchy scratching post.
Reza purred with triumph. He lounged in Penelope's sunbeam, batted Tom's favourite toy, and sharpened his claws on Tiger's post. Absolute perfection.
Meanwhile, the other three cats sat patiently with the tin can. They waited. And waited. No salmon appeared. No biscuits rained from the sky. The tin can just sat there, looking very... un-magical.
"Hey!" meowed Penelope sharply. "This tin is a fraud!"
"We've been tricked!" growled Tom.
Tiger just looked very cross indeed.
They needed help. They needed a plan. They needed someone cleverer than Reza. Tiger zipped off and returned with his very wise grandmother, Tiger-Lily.
She listened to their tale, her old eyes twinkling. "So", she purred, a slow smile spreading across her face, "he wants things, does he? And he likes to be in charge? I have an idea..."
A few moments later, the friends approached Reza, who was looking insufferably smug. Penelope held up a long, beautiful pheasant feather and sighed dramatically.
"Oh, Rezzi", she began, "your tin can is amazing, but we've found something even better. This is the Feather of Supreme Influence!"
Reza's ears perked up. "Supreme Influence?"
"Indeed", said Tiger-Lily. "Whoever holds this feather can make any cat, human, or even a grumpy-looking pigeon, do whatever they command. They will see your inner magnificence and obey without question."
Reza's eyes widened. Better than snacks — this was POWER! "I must have it!" he declared. "What's your price?"
Penelope gave him a sweet, innocent smile. "Oh, just our old things back. The sunbeam, the toys, the scratching post. A fair trade, don't you think?"
"Done!" snapped Reza, practically throwing their belongings back at them. He snatched the feather and held it aloft. "Now, bow to your supreme leader!"
The other cats just stared at him. Then they turned and walked away, giggling — because the feather, of course, did absolutely nothing.
Reza Shadey stood alone, holding a very ordinary feather, realising he had been outsmarted.
He let out a magnificent, furious huff. "This is an outrage! A complete violation of the natural order!" he yowled to the empty garden. "According to the ancient rules of this garden, only I have the right to trick others! You are all in breach of contract! I shall be speaking to my lawyers!"
With one last, indignant flick of his tail, he stalked off to sulk, leaving the dented tin can forgotten by the bin.
His grand scheme was in tatters — but his magnificent ego remained perfectly intact.
As usual.
Night night. Sleep tight.