Story 43: Reza Shadey and the Parrot Problem
One bright morning, Reza Shadey, the fluffiest, most self-important Persian cat in the entire neighbourhood (possibly the world, in his opinion), was polishing his whiskers on the sunniest garden gnome. Lick, lick, perfect! Suddenly, a screech echoed through the air – "SQUAWK! PRETTY BOY! SQUAWK!" – followed by a flash of brilliant green and yellow feathers. A new neighbour had arrived: a parrot named Pico, with a voice louder than Mrs Higgins's vacuum cleaner and a cage already hanging proudly on the patio next door.
Reza Shadey's magnificent tail gave a single, contemptuous flick. "Hmph! A feathered squawk-box", he sniffed. "Probably eats birdseed and thinks repeating silly noises is a talent. Utterly beneath my notice."
But then, Reza overheard Pico perfectly mimicking the postman's whistle, then Mrs Higgins calling, "Time for tea!" His emerald green eyes widened. This wasn't just squawking; this was... useful! A wonderfully mischievous plan, shimmering with Reza-tastic brilliance, began to hatch in his cunning feline brain. "This... feathered fool... could be my personal mouthpiece! Oh, the glorious chaos I can create!"
Knowing he could twist the situation to his magnificent advantage, Reza began his "lessons." He'd lounge casually near Pico's cage, muttering phrases with just the right intonation.
"Reza Shadey is the wisest cat in the world", he'd purr loudly, preening. "SQUAWK! Wisest cat! Reza smart!" Pico would screech back, delighted.
"And the most handsome", Reza would add, striking a pose. "HANDSOME! Reza best!"
This was going splendidly! But, Reza couldn't resist adding a few... observations... about his dear friends, always mumbled with a dismissive air when he thought Pico wasn't really listening:
"Oh, Penelope... so terribly dull. All she does is nap in sunbeams like a fluffy, uninteresting cloud."
"And Ginger Tom... bless his cotton socks, couldn't catch a cold, let alone a mouse. Probably thinks a butterfly is a flying biscuit."
"As for Tiger... that bouncy little apprentice. He really should just stick to chasing his tail and leaving the important thinking to ME."
The very next morning, Reza Shadey arranged a completely "accidental" gathering in Mrs Higgins's garden with Penelope, Ginger Tom, and Tiger. He was just about to suggest a game where he, naturally, would be the supreme ruler, when Pico, perched on the fence like a feathered judge, cleared his throat with a loud "AHEM! SQUAWK!"
Then, in Reza's exact, smug, purring voice, Pico declared:
"Oh, Penelope... so terribly dull. All she does is nap in sunbeams like a fluffy, uninteresting cloud."
Penelope's sleepy eyes snapped open. Her magnificent white tail fluffed up like a startled swan. "BORING, am I, Rezzi?!" she hissed, her voice dangerously soft.
Pico, oblivious, continued in Reza's voice: "And Ginger Tom... bless his cotton socks, couldn't catch a cold, let alone a mouse. Probably thinks a butterfly is a flying biscuit."
Ginger Tom, who had been cheerfully attempting to pounce on a ladybird, froze mid-wobble. His orange fur bristled. "Flying BISCUIT?! I'll have you know I am an EXCELLENT hunter, thank you very much!"
"As for Tiger..." Pico squawked, perfectly mimicking Reza's condescending tone, "that bouncy little apprentice. He really should just stick to chasing his tail and leaving the important thinking to ME."
Tiger's bouncy joy deflated like a popped balloon. His ears drooped. "Take orders from YOU?! Oh, I don't think so!" he snorted, trying to look fierce but mostly just looking hurt.
Reza Shadey gasped, his fur standing on end. His brilliant plan had backfired spectacularly! "Oh, you feathered fiend!" he thought, glaring at Pico. His friends were now glaring at him, whiskers twitching with indignation.
"No, no, my dearest friends! You misunderstand!" Reza scrambled, trying to look charmingly innocent (which was difficult when three pairs of angry cat eyes were boring into him). "It wasn't me! It was that... that... blabbermouth bird! Pico! He's making it all up!"
But his friends weren't buying it. After all, it was Reza's voice, clear as a freshly cleaned window.
Just as Reza was contemplating a dramatic escape over the fence (and blaming a passing squirrel), Mrs Higgins stepped into the garden, a steaming cup of tea in her hand and a biscuit in the other (which Reza noted with interest, despite the crisis).
Pico, seizing his moment, puffed up his chest and declared in Reza's most self-satisfied tone: "Reza Shadey is the wisest cat in the world! SQUAWK! And the most handsome!"
Mrs Higgins chuckled, nearly spilling her tea. "Oh, that parrot! He's been spending far too much time listening to you, Reza, you vain thing!"
Penelope's ears twitched. Her eyes narrowed, not with anger this time, but with dawning realisation. "Wait just a fuzzy moment... what did that bird just say?"
Ginger Tom scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Hang on... Reza would never say that particular compliment about himself out loud where we could hear it. He usually just implies it with superior glances."
Tiger tilted his head, his bouncy nature returning. "And why would Pico say all those other horrid things in Reza's voice unless... unless Reza actually taught him to say them?"
All eyes turned back to Reza Shadey, who was suddenly finding a loose thread on the garden gnome incredibly fascinating. He shuffled his paws. His whiskers drooped a tiny, almost imperceptible bit.
"Well..." he mumbled, avoiding their gaze. "Perhaps... I might have... casually mentioned a few phrases in Pico's general vicinity... purely for linguistic experimentation, you understand... for fun..."
Penelope sighed, a sound that was half exasperation, half affection. "Oh, Rezzi. You and your "fun". You can be such a spectacularly silly sausage sometimes."
Ginger Tom flicked his tail, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "You're lucky we know your particular brand of nonsense, you furry menace."
Tiger bounced, fully recovered. "Next time, Reza, can you teach Pico to say something super nice about US? Like, 'Tiger is the fastest, bounciest kitten in the whole garden, and probably the universe'?"
Reza Shadey's whiskers twitched. He looked at his expectant friends. He looked at the smug parrot. He gave a dramatic, put-upon sigh. "Oh, very well", he conceded, as if granting a monumental favour. "Alright... How about... 'Tiger is... adequately bouncy for a small apprentice'? And 'Penelope possesses... a passably fluffy tail'?"
Before anyone could object to his less-than-enthusiastic compliments, Pico screeched triumphantly: "SQUAWK! Penelope has the fluffiest tail! Tiger bouncy! Reza wisest!"
Everyone burst out laughing, even Mrs Higgins who had heard the whole exchange. And Reza Shadey? He allowed himself a tiny, almost invisible smirk. His plan might have gone outrageously wrong, but in the end, everyone was still talking about him. And that, in Reza's book, was always a win.
Night night. Sleep tight.