The Adventures of Reza Shadey

Story 33: Reza Shadey "Improves" the Garden

Snuggle down, little ones and let me tell you a tale about a very clever and rather bossy, cat named Reza Shadey. He was a fluffy Persian cat with sleek brown and black fur, a squishy face and big, twinkling green eyes that could charm the birds from the trees (if he wasn't planning to pounce on them!). Reza lived with his human, Mrs Higgins, in a cosy house with a big, beautiful garden. But Reza didn't just live in the garden; in his mind, he owned it and everything in it should reflect his magnificence!

One sunny morning, Mrs Higgins was heading out. She adjusted her hat, admired her prize-winning petunias – so bright and cheerful! – and said sternly, "Reza, be a good boy and please don't cause any mischief in my garden while I'm gone. And definitely don't touch my petunias!"

Reza tilted his head, giving his sweetest, most innocent "Meeeow?". But the moment Mrs Higgins's car disappeared down the drive, his eyes gleamed with a wonderfully sneaky plan. "This garden is far too... ordinary!" he thought, flicking his tail with disdain. "It needs the touch of a true genius, like myself! It should be a grand garden, a Reza Garden! And naturally, I'll get those other simpletons to do all the hard work for me!"

He puffed out his chest and yowled with regal importance, "Meeeowww-RUMPH! Penelope! Ginger Tom! Tiger! Attend your King! I mean, your friend, Reza!"

The other cats scampered over, tails twitching with curiosity. Penelope, a fluffy white cat with a habit of napping in sunbeams, blinked. "What's all the commotion, Rezzi?"

Reza flashed them what he considered his most dazzling and persuasive smile. "Oh, my dearest friends!" he purred, his voice like warm honey. "I overheard Mrs Higgins sighing just this morning! She said, 'Oh, if only my garden were more exciting! If only some clever cats could transform it into a wonder of the world! There might even be a mountain of tuna for such clever cats!'" He paused for dramatic effect. "She's counting on us to make it amazing! And she specifically said I should direct the grand improvements! If we do a splendid job, she'll shower us with treats beyond your wildest dreams! But we must hurry – she'll be so utterly astounded and proud!"

Ginger Tom, a sturdy orange cat who was always a little suspicious (and usually thinking about food), squinted. "Really, Reza? A mountain of tuna? Funny, I thought she said not to touch the petunias, very loudly."

Reza waved a dismissive paw. "Ah, Ginger Tom, you misunderstand her subtle ways! That's just her secret code! A test of our initiative! She trusts me implicitly to lead you all to glory. Now, to work! I shall... supervise... from this comfortable patch of sun, to ensure perfection!"

The cats, bamboozled by Reza's grand pronouncements and the (imaginary) promise of tuna, started their "improvements." Penelope, ever the delicate one, began trying to artfully rearrange fallen leaves into patterns, though she mostly just made small, messy piles. Reza, sprawling like a furry monarch, directed her with a lazy flick of his tail. "No, no, Penelope, a little more... panache! Think like a royal garden designer! Perhaps make a leaf-portrait of me?"

Ginger Tom, always enthusiastic when he thought food was involved, decided the bushes needed "pruning." He gnawed at the hedges with gusto, sending twigs and leaves flying. Some leaves stuck to his fur, making him look like a walking compost heap. Reza yawned. "A bit more shaping, Ginger Tom! Imagine you're sculpting a magnificent... sausage! Yes, that's it!"

Tiger, a wild little tabby who loved to dig, began excavating enormous holes with joyful abandon, dirt spraying in all directions. He unearthed a rusty old spoon and Mrs Higgins's other gardening glove, which he then tried to "plant." Reza stretched languidly. "Splendid holes, Tiger, splendid! Perhaps you'll find buried treasure? Or at least make room for a statue... of me, of course!"

Soon, the once-beautiful garden was a glorious catastrophe: flowerpots were overturned with petunias sticking out at sad angles, the neatly-edged lawn looked like it had hosted a badger wrestling match, bushes were chewed into bizarre, lopsided shapes and the bird bath was now festooned with the rusty spoon, the muddy glove and an assortment of shiny bottle caps Tiger had "contributed."

Reza surveyed the scene with immense satisfaction, purring loudly. "Magnificent! This garden truly screams 'Reza Shadey was here!' They'll all see my genius now. I should probably win an award for this."

Just then, the familiar rumble of Mrs Higgins's car sounded up the drive. Penelope, suddenly looking horrified, squeaked, "She's back! Oh, Rezzi, we're going to be in SO much trouble! There's no mountain of tuna, is there?"

Mrs Higgins stepped out of her car, took one look at her beloved garden and her jaw dropped. Her eyes went wide. "MY GARDEN! What in the name of prize-winning petunias has HAPPENED HERE?!"

The other cats froze, looking utterly guilty. But Reza Shadey, ever the performer, sauntered forward, rubbing against her legs, his face a perfect picture of wide-eyed innocence and concern. "Oh, Mrs Higgins, my dearest human! It was terrible!" he meowed, his voice full of feigned distress. "We were trying so hard to make your garden even more beautiful for you! A surprise! But the others... well, they got a little... overenthusiastic. I tried my very best to guide their efforts, to maintain some semblance of order, but they just wouldn't listen to poor, little, sensible me!"

Penelope huffed, her whiskers twitching with indignation. "Rezzi, you fibber! You told us to do it! You said there'd be tuna!"

Reza batted his long eyelashes at Mrs Higgins, looking deeply wounded by such an accusation. "Tuna? Oh, they must have misheard my sophisticated instructions. I only ever wanted to help you, my favourite human in the whole wide world. Their simplistic interpretation of my grand vision is hardly my fault."

Mrs Higgins frowned, looking from the chaotic garden to Reza's perfectly innocent face, then to the guilty expressions of the other three. She sighed, a long, weary sigh she often used when Reza was involved in something. She could tell Reza was spinning a yarn as fluffy as his tail, but that angelic face and those big, pleading green eyes... they always got to her.

"Oh, you naughty, naughty cats!" she said, though her voice was softer now. "Honestly, Reza, one of these days...! Well, I suppose I can't stay truly mad when you look at me like that. Right, let's try and tidy this up together."

As they worked, Mrs Higgins began to notice a few surprising things. Ginger Tom's enthusiastic chewing had actually given one overgrown bush a rather interesting, if unconventional, shape. "Well, Ginger Tom", she chuckled, "that's... a unique trim. Quite abstract!" Tiger's haphazard digging had, by sheer luck, perfectly aerated the soil around her struggling rose bush. "Goodness, Tiger, you might have saved my roses!" And even the collection of oddments in the bird bath sparkled rather prettily in the sunlight. "A quirky, modern art installation, perhaps?" she mused, shaking her head and smiling.

Reza Shadey, watching from the sidelines (he was, of course, 'supervising' the clean-up), smirked. "See? Pure genius. My brilliant ideas always lead to improvements, one way or another. They simply can't manage without me."

The other cats learned, yet again, to be a little more wary of Reza's grand schemes involving 'mountains of tuna'. But as the sun began to set, Mrs Higgins's garden, though looking rather different, somehow did seem a little more interesting, a little more full of character and certainly a lot more memorable — all thanks to a little bit of chaos, a lot of teamwork and the undeniable, if often troublesome, influence of Reza Shadey.

Night night. Sleep tight.