Story 132: Reza Shadey and the Other Reza
Okay, snuggle down tight, little ones. Let me tell you a tale about a very cheeky and magnificently fluffy cat who discovered that fame can be a soggy business, especially when it involves a case of mistaken identity and a rather damp doppelganger!
Reza Shadey was enjoying a quiet moment on the garden wall in cosy Catford, polishing his sleek brown and black fur with great care and puffing out his chest like a loaf of bread with opinions. His emerald eyes gleamed with self-importance as he surveyed his kingdom – the garden, the alley, and especially the bins, where tasty scraps might lurk. But then, the first strange thing happened.
"Hey! You're that cat from the internet!" shouted a tabby from four gardens down, eyes wide with awe. "My human was watching a video of you this morning!"
Reza froze mid-lick. Slowly, carefully, he turned his head. "Yes", he said at once, without checking any details. "That is correct." After all, a cat of his genius deserved to be famous!
The tabby's tail twitched excitedly. "The one who loves water! You're so brave – I could never do that!"
Reza's ears flicked. Water? Him? Reza despised getting wet; it turned his magnificent fluff into a soggy mop. But fame? Recognition? "Ah, yes", he purred modestly. "My... signature interest. It is not bravery. It is talent."
Word spread quicker than a rumour of free tuna. Cats began stopping him in the garden, in the alley, near the bins. "Why do you like being wet?" they asked. "Doesn't it ruin your fur?" "Do you prefer sprinklers or showers?"
Reza smiled thinly and lied professionally. "I enjoy the challenge", he said. "It keeps the coat glossy." "Genius is often uncomfortable." Deep down, his narcissistic heart swelled – brave, famous, recognised! He even started strutting with extra dramatic posture.
His friends noticed the change. Elegant Penelope, with her fluffy white fur and sensible gaze, tilted her head. "Rezzi, why are all these cats calling you 'Splashy Cat'? You hate baths more than Tiger hates vegetables!"
Ginger Tom, the sturdy orange cat who preferred naps to nonsense, yawned. "Yeah, guv'nor. Last time it rained, you yowled like a banshee and hid in the shed."
Tiger, the bouncy tabby kitten, just chirped, "Water? Splashy fun! Can I join?"
Reza waved a dismissive paw. "Hmph! Mere details. Fame requires adaptation. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have admirers to impress." He secretly vowed to avoid actual water at all costs.
One day things started to unravel. A passing cat said, "Hey Pablo, I hear you're doing a live show at the Garden Centre down the road this afternoon! Can't wait to see you there."
Reza stiffened. Who was this Pablo? Taking his credit? "Hmph. This requires investigation. A clear case of identity theft – against me!" He rallied his team. "To the Garden Centre! We must unmask this imposter!"
The Garden Centre was full of rustling leaves, the smell of damp earth, and dangerous-looking hoses. Reza crept between the ceramic pots, his friends trailing behind – Penelope scanning wisely, Ginger Tom sniffing for the café, and Tiger bouncing like a furry ping-pong ball. "Boing! Boing!"
Then Reza saw him. Perched on a display of birdbaths was another Persian cat. He had the same squashed face. The same fluffy tail. But he looked... miserable. A human was holding a phone, pointing it at him.
Reza gasped. "IMPOSTER!" He marched forward. "YOU!"
The cat turned. Their eyes met. "YOU!"
They stared, whiskers twitching in unison. "I am Reza Shadey", Reza hissed. "And you are infringing on my image."
"My name is Pablo", the other cat whispered quietly. "And I hate this."
Reza blinked. "You hate water?"
"Yes", Pablo whispered, flinching as a drop splashed nearby from a leaky hose. "but my human needs the likes and the high view count." In return, she gives me the really expensive salmon paste."
Reza nodded slowly. "Of course she does. Fame demands sacrifice." But inside, he felt a twinge – was this the cost?
Silence fell, broken only by Tiger's distant "Boing!" from where he was chasing a crisp packet.
"Half the royalties", Reza said suddenly, his eyes narrowing. "You copied my look. I demand fifty percent of the salmon paste."
"I've never seen you before", Pablo protested weakly.
"Exactly", Reza replied with supreme confidence. "Proof of theft."
Just then, a human voice shouted, "Look! There are TWO Pablos! Get the sprinklers ready for a double feature!"
Reza bristled. "Two REZAS!" he corrected loudly.
But it was too late. "CLICK-WHIRRR!" The Garden Centre's automatic watering system roared to life. From every hanging basket and flowerbed, jets of cold water exploded! "SSSSSSHHHHH!"
Every instinct in Reza screamed. His fur collapsed into wet strings. His dignity drowned. His soul tried to flee. "YEEEEOOOWWW!" he yowled.
Pablo joined in the chorus. "MREOOOW!" Both Persian cats, now looking like very angry, very soggy rats, bolted in opposite directions. They slipped on wet tiles, collided with bags of compost, and escaped through the automatic doors as humans laughed and filmed.
Reza didn't stop running until he was safely home, dry (mostly), and furious. He licked one flattened paw dramatically. "Hmph. Two geniuses. One stolen destiny."
Mrs Higgins looked down at him, towel in hand. "Why are you soaking wet again, Reza? And why do you look like you've seen a ghost?"
Reza lay down with theatrical flair. "Fame", he sighed. "Is a damp business." But secretly, he thought, "Next time, I'll launch my own channel – 'Reza's Dry Genius'. No water required. Clearly, the key is to exploit the trend without the sogginess."
Night night. Sleep tight.