Story 176: Reza Shadey and the Cattery Takeover
"Okay, snuggle down tight, little ones. Tonight's bedtime story is about a very fluffy Persian cat who accidentally became the Chief Executive Officer of a cattery... simply because he looked as though he knew what he was doing."
It began on a bright Monday morning when Mrs Higgins wheeled a large suitcase into the hallway.
Reza Shadey froze halfway through inspecting his breakfast bowl.
A suitcase.
Suitcases never meant anything good.
He leapt gracefully onto the hall table and examined it from every angle.
"Mrs Higgins", he announced, "I have detected a significant operational development. This luggage indicates a major deployment of personnel. Kindly explain why I was not invited to yesterday's planning meeting."
Mrs Higgins laughed and scratched behind his ears.
"I'm going on a lovely cruise for a week, my silly sausage. You'll be staying at The Whispering Willows Feline Hotel. They'll look after you beautifully."
Reza's magnificent tail fluffed until it resembled an expensive feather duster.
"A hotel?"
"Yes."
"For cats?"
"Exactly."
Reza gasped.
"This is not a hotel. It is a temporary relocation facility. I refuse to be outsourced."
Five minutes later he found himself inside his travelling carrier anyway.
"This transportation agreement lacks my signature", he complained as Mrs Higgins carried him to the car. "I reserve the right to submit a strongly worded complaint."
Mrs Higgins merely smiled.
"Oh, you'll have a lovely time."
The Whispering Willows Feline Hotel was clean, comfortable and peaceful.
Every enclosure had soft bedding.
Fresh water sparkled in polished bowls.
There were climbing shelves, scratching posts and sunny windows.
The staff were kind.
To any ordinary cat, it was perfectly pleasant.
To Reza Shadey...
...it was chaos.
Cats sat quietly in unfamiliar surroundings.
Some looked nervous.
Some missed home.
Some simply waited for their humans to return.
Most importantly...
None of them knew one another.
Reza slowly smiled.
"A completely new organisation", he murmured.
"No established leadership."
"No reporting structure."
"No strategic vision."
His whiskers twitched.
"This is not a cattery."
"It is a management opportunity."
Most cats, when arriving somewhere unfamiliar, tried to understand the rules.
Reza preferred a different strategy.
He confidently strolled around the exercise yard with the relaxed air of a cat conducting an inspection.
When another cat hesitated outside the scratching tower, Reza nodded knowingly.
"Excellent choice. The upper platform receives direct sunshine from approximately eleven o'clock."
The cat blinked.
"Oh... does it?"
"I should think so."
The cat climbed up.
Five minutes later, the sunshine arrived exactly as Reza had predicted.
"What luck", whispered the cat.
Reza merely smiled.
Luck had nothing to do with it.
He had observed the position of the sun.
Basic market analysis.
Soon another cat approached.
She was a graceful Siamese called Coco.
"Excuse me", she asked quietly. "Do they always serve chicken on Mondays?"
Reza had absolutely no idea.
But uncertainty was contagious.
Confidence was even more contagious.
"They usually do", he replied smoothly. "Although occasionally there are strategic menu adjustments."
Sure enough...
Lunch arrived.
Chicken.
Coco stared at him with admiration.
"You know everything!"
Reza gave a modest little shrug.
"I make it my business to remain informed."
In reality, he had noticed somebody unloading boxes labelled GOURMET CHICKEN from a delivery van.
By Tuesday morning the rumours had spread.
"If you need to know something..."
"Ask the fluffy Persian."
"He understands how this place works."
Cats began seeking his advice.
"Which window gets the warmest afternoon sun?"
"When do the treats arrive?"
"Which scratching post is the quietest?"
Most of the answers were surprisingly easy.
Reza simply watched.
He noticed patterns.
The warm window.
The friendly keeper.
The noisy washing machine.
Then he repeated his observations as though they were confidential executive briefings.
The other cats were impressed.
By Tuesday afternoon, somebody had placed a small cushion beside the scratching barrel.
Nobody admitted doing it.
Nobody remembered deciding.
But somehow, whenever there was a question, everyone looked at Reza.
Reza examined the cushion carefully.
"Interesting", he said.
"The organisation appears to have created a leadership position."
He paused.
"Fortunately, I am available."
There was one enormous Maine Coon named Boris.
He was bigger than everyone else put together, but surprisingly shy.
He always stood back politely while smaller cats chose their favourite sleeping places first.
Reza regarded him thoughtfully.
"You're wasting an important strategic asset."
"My... what?"
"Your size."
Boris blinked.
"I am?"
"You naturally create order."
"I do?"
"Simply stand beside the food bowls."
"I don't have to tell anyone what to do?"
"Heavens, no."
"So... what do I do?"
"Nothing."
The next meal arrived.
Without meaning to, Boris formed a perfectly straight queue.
Everyone patiently waited.
Nobody pushed.
Nobody squeezed.
The staff looked delighted.
"What polite cats today!"
Each cat received an extra crunchy treat.
Cheers echoed around the exercise yard.
Every head turned towards Reza.
He accepted the applause with quiet dignity.
"Excellent teamwork", he said.
Inside, he purred.
Leadership, he reflected, was remarkably easy when other people confused observation with genius.
By Wednesday he had created what he proudly called the Feline Operations Committee.
Not because anyone had asked for one.
Because organisations sounded much more impressive if they had committees.
Coco became Director of Comfort.
Her important responsibility was deciding which cushions were fluffiest.
Boris became Head of Security.
His official duty was standing wherever he happened to be standing.
A lively young tabby called Pip became Director of Recreation after demonstrating exceptional enthusiasm for chasing feather toys.
Every morning Reza climbed onto the tallest scratching barrel.
"Good morning, stakeholders", he announced.
The cats gathered eagerly.
"Today's priorities are operational harmony, equitable sunbeam allocation and excellence in snack readiness."
Nobody entirely understood what that meant.
But it sounded wonderfully important.
Best of all...
Life genuinely became nicer.
Instead of arguing over sunny spots, the cats took turns.
Instead of rushing their meals, they waited calmly.
Instead of feeling lonely, they chatted together while watching birds through the windows.
Even the staff noticed.
"I've never seen everyone settle in so quickly", one keeper remarked.
"They all seem much happier this week."
Reza overheard every word.
He closed his eyes with satisfaction.
At last.
Someone had recognised outstanding executive performance.
On Thursday morning, Reza awoke feeling extraordinarily pleased with himself.
The cattery was running beautifully.
The cats looked to him for advice.
The staff admired everyone's good behaviour.
It was, Reza decided, the perfect time to improve perfection.
He climbed onto his scratching barrel and cleared his throat.
"Good morning, valued stakeholders. Following the overwhelming success of our operational improvements, I am delighted to announce Phase Two."
The cats looked up.
"To maintain these exceptionally high standards, I shall be introducing a few entirely sensible enhancements."
Coco tilted her head.
"What sort of enhancements?"
Reza smiled.
"Nothing dramatic."
"First, all premium sunbeams will require an Executive Sunbeam Licence."
"A... what?" asked Boris.
"A licence."
"How do we get one?"
"Simple. Applications should be submitted to me during my morning consultation period."
There was an awkward silence.
"Secondly", continued Reza, "the feather toys shall now be available only after completing a Mandatory Motivation Meeting."
Pip frowned.
"But... we already know how to play."
"Exactly", said Reza. "That's the sort of positive attitude we shall be discussing."
He continued reading from an imaginary clipboard.
"Thirdly, all naps exceeding one hour must be registered for scheduling purposes."
Several cats stared blankly.
"And finally", Reza concluded proudly, "I shall be relocating to the Premium Cushion Suite in order to better supervise strategic operations."
Nobody said anything.
They simply wandered off.
The first sign of trouble came that afternoon.
Reza marched importantly towards the biggest sunbeam.
Boris was already asleep in it.
"Excuse me", said Reza. "Have you completed the appropriate licensing documentation?"
Boris opened one sleepy eye.
"No."
"I see."
Boris closed his eye again.
"...and?"
"And... you require authorisation."
"I don't think I do."
Reza blinked.
"Oh."
His Motivation Meeting attracted even fewer attendees.
Reza waited on the scratching barrel.
He straightened an imaginary tie.
He consulted an imaginary agenda.
He even announced refreshments.
Nobody came.
Across the yard, the cats were already happily playing together.
Without committees.
Without licences.
Without meetings.
Without him.
On Friday morning, the Feline Operations Committee quietly dissolved.
Nobody announced it.
Nobody voted.
It simply... stopped existing.
Coco put the cushions wherever she fancied.
Pip shared the feather toys with everyone.
Boris stood wherever he liked, which still happened to produce an orderly queue because he was naturally considerate.
The cattery remained calm.
The cats remained cheerful.
In fact...
Everything continued working almost exactly as before.
Only now there was far less paperwork.
Reza found this deeply confusing.
He had removed himself from every important decision.
Surely the entire organisation should have collapsed.
Instead...
It seemed perfectly capable of functioning without him.
"This", he muttered darkly, "is highly irregular."
The keepers noticed something too.
"The fluffy Persian's gone rather quiet", one of them whispered.
"Perhaps he's missing home."
Reza chose not to correct such an outrageous misunderstanding.
He was not lonely.
He was merely allowing the workforce an opportunity to appreciate the absence of visionary leadership.
It was, he assured himself, an advanced management technique.
On Sunday morning Mrs Higgins arrived.
"There you are, my handsome boy!"
Reza stepped gracefully into her arms with all the dignity of a senior executive concluding an overseas business conference.
Mrs Higgins smiled at one of the keepers.
"He looks as though he's been very well looked after."
"Oh yes", said the keeper. "He certainly kept himself busy."
"I should imagine he did."
Reza lifted his chin.
Busy was one way of describing a complete organisational transformation.
Back in Catford, the garden was enjoying a rare, glorious Reza-free silence.
Penelope was dozing beneath the roses.
Ginger Tom was asleep on the wall.
Tiger was enthusiastically chasing a leaf that kept escaping without anyone turning it into a 'strategic pounce optimisation workshop'.
The moment Reza emerged from his carrier, Tiger bounded over.
"Rezzaa! Was the cattery high-key amazing?"
Reza drew himself up proudly.
"I have concluded an intensive leadership placement."
Penelope opened one eye.
"Oh?"
"I inherited an organisation suffering from uncertain direction."
"What happened, Rezzi?"
"I introduced structure."
Ginger Tom yawned.
"Sounds like a proper graft, mate. Did they 'ave decent biscuits?"
"It was essential."
Penelope smiled.
"And how did it end?"
Reza gave a slow, confident nod.
"Exceptionally well."
"Did everyone follow your new rules?"
"Not immediately."
"Oh?"
"They eventually abandoned every single one."
Penelope looked puzzled.
"So... they ignored you?"
Reza smiled the satisfied smile of a cat who had completely misunderstood his own story.
"Exactly."
There was a pause.
"I'm not sure I follow."
"It's perfectly simple, Penelope. They removed every single one of my improvements and immediately became happier. Clearly, my leadership was so powerful it kept working even after I stopped."
Penelope blinked slowly.
"I see."
Reza purred.
"I thought you might."
He leapt onto his favourite cushion, circled exactly three times and settled down with enormous satisfaction.
After all, not every cat could spend a week away from home and return having successfully proved — to himself — that he had been right all along.
Mrs Higgins smiled as she watched her magnificent Persian drift happily off to sleep.
Some cats chased mice.
Some chased butterflies.
Reza Shadey chased impossible ideas.
And somehow, life was always far more entertaining because of it.
A very important message from Mrs Higgins:
"If your family ever goes away, it's important that your pets stay somewhere safe where they'll be cared for properly until you come home. A good cattery gives cats comfortable beds, fresh food, clean water and lots of kindness. Home is always the best place to come back to."
Night night. Sleep tight.