Story 27: Reza Shadey's Meeoww Immigration
Snuggle down, little sleepyheads. Let's hear about Reza Shadey's latest and most complicated scheme!
One cosy evening, Reza Shadey sat on Mrs Higgins' patio, his fluffy tail swishing like a furry broom. His clever green eyes spotted the big, comfy sofa through the window. "What a waste of a perfectly comfy spot!" he thought, a magnificent idea sparking in his brain. "That sofa is a sanctuary! A safe haven! I shall establish an official cat-immigration service for less fortunate cats from outside the neighbourhood!" He conveniently decided this service would have a small application fee, payable in treats.
The next morning, he marched through the garden, puffing out his chest. "Hear ye, hear ye!" he yowled. "The Meeoww Immigration and Sofa Sanctuary Service is now open! For a modest entry fee of five crunchy treats, you can apply for a short stay on Mrs Higgins's finest upholstery! It's purr-fectly safe and comfy!"
Penelope, who was observing from a sunny spot, blinked her big eyes. "But Rezzi, isn't that her sofa?" Ginger Tom, woken from a nap by the commotion, grumbled, "And what if she finds out about your... 'service'?"
Reza Shadey waved a paw dismissively. "She'll never notice! The applicants will be quiet as mice. Quiet as... sleeping, very grateful mice!"
Little Tiger bounced over, his tail a question mark. "My cousin Whiskers is visiting! Can he apply for a comfy place to stay? His cushion at home is dreadfully lumpy! Pleeease?"
Reza grinned, his eyes gleaming. "For six treats, his application will be fast-tracked. It's the family and friends visa rate!" (He still wasn't very good at maths.)
That night, Whiskers arrived — a fluffy grey cat with a nose that twitched like a rabbit's. "Oooh! A proper sanctuary!" he purred, handing Reza a sparkly hairband as a 'gift' to speed up his application. Reza's eyes lit up. "Welcome, refugee cat! Now, remember the rules: no noise, no paws on tables, and absolutely no snoring!" he instructed. But Whiskers was already bouncing on the sofa, testing its springiness. "This is amazing! Much better than my old cushion!" he exclaimed, oblivious to Reza's strict immigration rules.
But Whiskers was a curious cat. He spotted a shiny vase on a high shelf, its surface reflecting the moonlight like a tiny disco ball. "Oooh, pretty!" he murmured. Without thinking, he leapt up — Boing! — his paws outstretched. But he misjudged the distance and — CRASH-TINKLE-BOOM! — the vase shattered into a million pieces.
Upstairs, Mrs Higgins sat up. "What was that?!"
Reza Shadey's fur puffed up like a dandelion. "Quick! Play dead!" he hissed. Both cats flopped onto the sofa, pretending to snore "Zzzzzz!" (Very badly.)
Mrs Higgins flicked on the light. "Reza Shadey! Why is there a strange cat on my sofa... and my vase in bits?!"
Reza opened one eye, his mind racing. "Erm... this is Whiskers. He's... a refugee! He's seeking asylum... from a very hard, far-away cushion!"
Just then, Tiger, who had been eavesdropping from the cat flap, couldn't hold back. "Wait a minute, Mrs Higgins! Reza made me pay six treats for Whiskers's visa pass! He said it was a family discount!" Tiger exclaimed, his tail twitching with indignation. Mrs Higgins raised an eyebrow and looked at Reza, who was trying to look innocent but failing miserably.
Mrs Higgins crossed her arms, but there was a twinkle in her eye. "Reza Shadey, you cheeky thing! The Meeoww Immigration service is completely closed, understand?" Reza hung his head, but as soon as she turned away, he whispered to himself, "Next time, I'll add a 'breakages deposit' to the application fee." And with that, he strutted off, already planning his next grand venture — "Reza's Posh Poo Café! With litter trays and snacks..."
Mrs Higgins let Whiskers stay (and gave him extra cuddles). Tiger got his treats back. And Reza? He kept the sparkly hairband... and wore it as a crown all week.
Night night. Sleep tight.