Story 200: RezaCat and Wonder Kitten, The Dynamic Duo
Okay, snuggle down tight, little ones. Let me tell you about the night Catford's fluffiest cat decided the garden needed a superhero... and that he was exactly the right cat for the job.
It began on a perfectly ordinary Tuesday evening.
Mrs Higgins was watching the news when a curious report caught her attention.
"Police are investigating reports of a mysterious caped figure who has been carrying out good deeds around London", the newsreader announced. "The unidentified individual has reportedly been helping to repair potholes, giving away free fuel, and campaigning to bring back five-pence Freddos."
On the arm of the sofa, Reza Shadey opened one emerald eye.
A cape.
A mysterious identity.
Public service.
Affordable chocolate.
He sat upright so suddenly that his chest fluff bounced.
"Mrs Higgins", he announced, "we are witnessing a significant market disruption. A previously unoccupied sector has emerged within the public-service ecosystem."
Mrs Higgins smiled and scratched behind his ears. "Would you like a biscuit, my silly sausage?"
Reza regarded her with the solemnity of a chairman declining an inadequate investment proposal.
"At this stage, I must prioritise the larger opportunity."
By half past nine the compost bin had officially become the Catcave.
The emergency board meeting was convened beneath the apple tree.
Penelope arrived through the gap in the hedge, looking elegant and faintly suspicious. Ginger Tom arrived because he had heard the word "snacks" across three gardens. Tiger arrived by launching himself over the fence, performing an unnecessary mid-air twist, and landing upside down in a flowerpot.
"NAILED IT!" he announced.
"You have landed in a geranium", observed Penelope.
"Still counts."
Reza climbed onto an upturned flowerpot. He had fashioned a black sock into a cape (it still smelled faintly of fabric softener).
"Colleagues", Reza began, "Catford requires a dark, mysterious, highly efficient protector. I shall become... RezaCat."
Penelope blinked slowly. "Rezzi, no."
"And Tiger", he continued, pointing one paw, "you shall be my sidekick: the Wonder Kitten. The Furry Missile of Justice."
Tiger's eyes went enormous. "BET! Do I get a cape?"
"You get a scarf. We are operating within a constrained costume budget."
Ginger Tom raised a paw. "What's the pay?"
"Prestige, professional development, and residual snack opportunities."
"I'm in", sighed Ginger Tom.
At precisely ten o'clock, RezaCat and Wonder Kitten commenced their first patrol.
Their first target was a crisp packet blown against the fence.
"Urban decay!" declared RezaCat.
Tiger zoomed forward, scooped it up, and deposited it in the bin so fast he nearly knocked Reza off his flowerpot.
"NEXT!"
They recovered three leaves, half a twig, a lost glove, and one very confused woodlouse who had been minding his own business.
Then they reached the birdbath.
Reza produced a small, shiny tin of Dreamies. He prised the lid loose and rested it back on top. He did not believe in fastening things properly. It slowed down distribution.
"Operation Free Snack Distribution is now in effect."
Tiger took charge of distribution. This was a mistake.
Within thirty seconds one Dreamie had landed in the birdbath, two had disappeared beneath the shed, and Ginger Tom had acquired three without submitting a single application.
"This is chaos", said Penelope from a safe distance.
"This is community engagement", corrected RezaCat.
That was when the laughing started.
"Heh. Heh heh. HAHAHAHA!"
A black-and-white magpie hopped along a branch of the apple tree. This particular bird seemed to have boycotted bedtime.
Around his head sat a curious arrangement of feathers that looked suspiciously like a tiny jester's hat.
He bowed. "Good evening, citizens. You may call me The Jester."
Tiger's eyes widened. "WE HAVE A NEMESIS!"
Before Reza could issue a strategic order, the magpie swooped, seized the shiny tin in his beak, and flapped back into the tree.
"HALT!" shouted RezaCat. "Return the assets immediately!"
The magpie tipped his head. "Assets? My dear fluffy friend, this is the shiniest thing in the garden. And tonight I've decided it's mine."
He settled on a high branch and shook the tin experimentally.
Unfortunately, the lid had never been fastened.
The tin tipped. Dreamies bounced off the branches and rained down upon the garden.
Tiger stared upwards in delight. "It's SNACK RAIN!"
Ginger Tom sprang from the fence. "THAT'S MY KIND OF WEATHER!"
The garden erupted into chaos. Tiger bounded after falling treats. Ginger Tom attempted to eat three at once. Reza tried to maintain an orderly distribution system while the distribution system was moving in six directions simultaneously.
And The Jester, who had lost his entire haul before he had even tasted it, laughed until he nearly fell off his branch.
Reza stood beneath the tree, sock-cape drooping. For a moment his expression was unusually still.
Tiger approached, carrying a single Dreamie. "Don't worry, Reza. We can try again tomorrow."
Penelope walked over and nudged a neat little pile of rescued Dreamies toward him. She had gathered the survivors from the lawn while the others were busy chasing. "There are twelve left", she said quietly. "The litter's gone, and everyone got a snack. Even the woodlouse."
Reza studied the little pile. Then he looked at Tiger, still vibrating with loyalty. A new business opportunity was taking shape.
"Colleagues", he announced, "we have just identified a critical vulnerability in our operational model. We have centralised our snack reserves in a single location. This creates an unacceptable concentration of risk."
Tiger's ears perked up. "So we need loads of snack spots!"
"Precisely", said Reza. "Phase Four: the decentralised snack network."
The team set to work.
Ginger Tom was appointed Director of Perimeter Security (which he interpreted as permission to sit on the fence and eat any snacks that came within reach). Penelope became Head of Quality Control. Tiger was appointed Logistics Commander, racing around the garden placing a single Dreamie in each of twelve sensible hiding places and occasionally forgetting where he was going.
"Shall I write down where they all are?" asked Penelope.
"Absolutely not", said Reza. "A written record is a security risk. All locations will be held in the memory of our Logistics Commander."
Tiger saluted with the wrong paw. "Snack bank!"
"An informal description", Reza conceded, "but commercially compelling."
From the apple tree The Jester watched in growing confusion.
"What are you doing?"
"Implementing a revised distribution strategy", Reza replied calmly.
"You're hiding them all over the place?"
"We are improving access to strategically allocated resources."
"But if I steal one, you'll simply have more somewhere else?"
Reza smiled. "Your powers of deduction are beginning to show promise."
The magpie looked from one cat to another. Nobody was chasing him. Nobody was shouting. Tiger was too busy celebrating. Ginger Tom was eating a recovered Dreamie. Penelope was checking the garden.
"Well, this is no fun", the magpie muttered.
He pecked irritably at the empty tin, which had landed in the branches and caught on a twig. The twig sprang free. The tin tumbled down, landed on a soft pile of leaves, and rolled to a stop beside Reza's paws.
Reza examined it, then looked up.
"Thank you", he said gravely, "for completing the reverse logistics process."
The Jester gave a disgusted squawk. "I hate bureaucracy! I'm going to find somewhere with proper crime!"
And off he flew into the night, yawning.
Tiger leapt into the air. "WE WON!"
"Correction", said Reza. "We achieved a favourable operational outcome."
"WE WON WITH BUREAUCRACY!"
"That is an acceptable summary for external communications."
Mrs Higgins opened the back door just as the evening was winding down.
Penelope, Ginger Tom and Tiger had already slipped away through the hedge and over the fence, heading for their own homes. Only Reza remained, sitting on the patio with the damp sock still around his neck.
"What on earth have you been doing out here?" said Mrs Higgins. "The garden looks as though a very small, very fluffy tornado has been through it."
She picked a leaf from his ears and gently lifted him onto her arm.
"Have you been playing superheroes, my darling boy?"
Reza settled into the warmth of her cardigan.
"Playing? Certainly not. I have spent the evening implementing a high-impact public-protection initiative. Environmental remediation, snack redistribution, and the neutralisation of a disruptive market participant."
Mrs Higgins stroked his fluffy head. "Well, I'm glad you've had a nice time."
Reza closed his eyes. "More than that, Mrs Higgins. I have established a scalable framework for community resilience."
Outside, in the dark, the snack bank was already experiencing difficulties. Tiger, now curled up in his own basket next door, had forgotten where he had put eleven of the twelve Dreamies. Ginger Tom, who had watched every hiding place with professional interest, was working his way steadily through the network, one hiding place at a time. By breakfast, the Catford Decentralised Snack Bank would be completely out of business.
But Reza did not know that. Inside, he purred the satisfied purr of a cat who had, once again, saved Catford in exactly the way he intended.
A very important message from Mrs Higgins:
Cat treats are for cats, little ones! Birds and hedgehogs need food that's right for them, so please don't feed them Dreamies or other cat treats. If you'd like to help your garden visitors, ask a grown-up how to give them the right kind of food.
Night night. Sleep tight.