Story 141: Reza Shadey and the Catfish Cat-astrophe
Okay, snuggle down tight, little ones. Let me tell you a tale about a very cheeky and magnificently fluffy Persian cat who discovered that the internet is an excellent place for admiration, ambition, and snacks — and also an excellent place to be spectacularly bamboozled.
It was a drizzly Tuesday in Catford, the sort of grey, soggy day that makes sensible cats nap twice before lunch.
Reza Shadey was not napping.
He was standing on Mrs Higgins's coffee table, chest puffed out, tail curved like a question mark of destiny, staring down at her glowing tablet.
"Hmph", he murmured importantly. "So this is the internet. A digital landscape populated by pictures of food and humans who cannot spell. I shall fit in perfectly."
Mrs Higgins had left the tablet unattended after reading an article entitled Could Your Cat Be Lonely Online? Reza had already answered that question.
"Lonely?" he scoffed. "I am under-appreciated. There is a global shortage of my specific brand of genius."
With one perfectly groomed paw, he tapped the screen. An app opened.
PurrMatch™
Profiles slid past:
Mr Whiskers, 2 miles away
FluffyQueen77 loves naps
Dave (Possibly a Hamster)
Reza curled his lip. "Amateurs. Where are the serious admirers? The patrons? The snack investors?"
That was when a plan bloomed in his mind — large, shiny, and extremely flawed.
"Humans receive gifts, praise, and mysterious packages from strangers online every day", Reza purred. "Why shouldn't I? I shall simply... optimise the process."
He created a profile at once.
Username: The_Grand_Architect_99
Bio: Visionary. Strategist. International Pâté Consultant. Seeking a loyal subordinate to facilitate a high-yield investment in gourmet crunchies. No dogs. Serious enquiries only.
Photo: A dramatic portrait taken atop Mrs Higgins's velvet cushion, lit from below by the tablet, one paw raised mid-decree.
He leaned back, deeply satisfied. "Yes", he said softly. "This will destabilise the tuna market."
Messages began to arrive.
Most were dreadful. "Nice fur." "Are you real?" "Send paw pics."
Reza deleted them all with disdain.
Then — PING.
TunaTreasure99 wants to connect!
The profile picture was a blur of silver fur and a very expensive-looking collar. The bio was brief:
I have too many snacks and no one to share them with. Looking for a mentor.
Reza's eyes gleamed.
"Finally!" he cried. "A being of taste! Ginger Tom! Come quickly! Witness the dawn of my digital empire!"
Ginger Tom trotted over from the radiator, blinking sleepily. "Empire?" he said. "Is that the thing where we get treats? Because I'm quite keen on that."
Penelope appeared silently beside them, elegant and white and sensible as ever. She peered at the screen.
"Rezzi", she said gently, "that picture looks... odd. And why does a cat need a mentor for snacks?"
"Nonsense", Reza snapped. "Many cats are self-made. Some are merely... snack-poor."
He typed back at once.
Your admiration is noted and encouraged. As a gesture of goodwill, please send a tribute tin. Discretion is essential.
The reply was instant.
Minor delay. International tuna regulations. Very complex. Please send 20 Dreamies to unlock premium delivery.
Reza frowned — but only briefly.
"All great ventures require seed snacks", he reasoned.
He 'borrowed' Ginger Tom's emergency biscuit stash. "For the greater good", he explained. "You'll get double back. Plus prestige."
Tiger bounced into the room at that exact moment. "Ooo! Is it a game? Can I help? Can I bounce on the prestige?"
"Yes", Reza said solemnly. "You may contribute collateral."
Tiger donated his favourite jingly ball.
Even Penelope, sighing deeply, contributed a single luxury catnip mouse. "Only because", she said, "I want to see how this ends."
The requests escalated.
Send a photo of your paws.
Reza obliged.
Now one with today's newspaper.
He balanced The Catford Chronicle with dignity.
Urgent. Send tuna money or I will perish.
Reza stared at the screen.
Something tugged at his magnificent brain.
"This feeling..." he murmured. "It's familiar. Like when Felix the Fox told me my bowl had a baby."
Penelope sat beside him. "Rezzi", she said kindly, "you've been catfished."
Reza recoiled as if stung. "Catfished? Me? The architect of deception? The master of the Purr-o-dynamic Vortex?"
Tiger bounced. "Is it a real fish? Can I chase it? Does it taste like salmon?"
Before anyone could answer, another message arrived.
Meet me at midnight by the old oak stump. Bring one jingly ball as a welcoming gift. The transfer of wealth awaits.
"This is it!" Reza cried. "The final phase!"
At midnight, the four cats crept into the garden. The air was cold. The oak stump loomed.
By it sat a small, lidded basket.
Reza approached with regal dignity. "Ah", he said. "The first installment."
He lifted the lid.
Inside was not salmon. There was no pâté.
There was a single, slightly slobbery tennis ball, a note, and a smell of... dog.
The note read:
SUCKERS! – Barnaby
P.S. The Dreamies were delicious.
A snort came from the fence. the terrier from next door grinned down at them, a tablet balanced clumsily in his paws.
"A DOG", Reza yowled. "I've been out-foxed by a drooling terrier with Wi-Fi!"
Ginger Tom sighed. "Told you it was fishy, mate."
Tiger bounced. "Can I chase him now?"
"No", Reza said quietly, deflating like a punctured balloon. "The game is up. We have been... catfished."
They trooped inside, tails low.
Mrs Higgins found them sharing one small saucer of very ordinary crunchies, the tablet mysteriously drained of battery.
She looked at the message history and smiled gently. "Oh, Reza", she said. "The internet is like a big garden. Most of it is lovely, but sometimes there's a prickly thistle. You have to be careful what you chase."
Reza ate slowly.
"Perhaps", he said at last, "true admiration cannot be ordered online. It must be earned... through superior chaos in the physical realm."
Penelope nudged him. "Or just by being you, Rezzi."
"Don't be absurd", Reza huffed. "Schemes are my brand."
But he didn't move when she rested her head against his fluffy side.
And somewhere out there, the terrier enjoyed his stolen Dreamies, blissfully unaware he had crossed the only cat who never truly admits defeat.
A very important message from Mrs Higgins: The internet can be a wonderful place, little ones — but if someone online asks for your treats, your secrets, or where you keep the biscuit tin, always stop and tell a grown-up. Real friends don't hide behind screens — they share the sunbeam with you.
Confused by the word 'Catfishing'? It might sound like a fun game with a fishing rod, but it is actually a trick! You can learn exactly what it means in The Reza Shadey Dictionary of Phrase & Fable.
Night night. Sleep tight.