Story 57: Reza Shadey and The Cost of Living Crisis
It all started on a Tuesday, when Mrs Higgins sat at her kitchen table with a big pile of papers and a very small cup of tea. She let out a long, slow "Siiiiigh..." that ruffled the curtains and made the biscuit tin tremble. Reza Shadey, the world's most magnificent Persian cat, opened one green eye. He knew that sound. It was the sound that came just before disappointment.
At dinner time, his worst fears came true. Instead of his favourite "Supreme Ocean Delight" tuna pâté, a bowl of small, brown, dusty-looking nuggets was placed before him. Clatter, clatter. They were called "Savvy Saver Cat Biscuits."
Reza Shadey sniffed them once. Sniff! He gently poked a nugget with his paw. Flick! It skittered across the kitchen floor like a sad little stone. He looked at Mrs Higgins with utter disgust. "This isn't food", he thought, his whiskers trembling with rage. "This is gravel. Gravel that dreamed of being food and failed miserably. The absolute cheek!"
He let out a long, loud, furious yowl. "MEEEEOOOWWW-OWWW!" which clearly meant, "Fix this appalling mistake at once, or I shall depart!" He stalked to the door, his tail held high like a fluffy, angry flag. But when the next meal came, so did the dreadful nuggets. That was it. As soon as the cat-flap was unwatched, Reza slipped out. His mission: to find a new, more appreciative owner with better taste.
First, he marched to the home of Penelope, who was sunbathing on a rather fancy velvet cushion by her patio doors. He explained his terrible situation. Penelope sympathised, but then hissed quietly, "Oh, Rezzi, it's dreadful! My human says if one more mouth to feed turns up, we'll all be on bread and water for a month!" She shuddered. Bread! The horror!
Next, he visited Ginger Tom, whose home was a cheerful, comfy-looking house at the end of the road. Tom offered him a lick of his own dinner – a rather plain-looking meat-and-jelly concoction. "Cost of livin' crisis, mate", Tom sighed, chewing thoughtfully. "I get what I'm given these days. Still, it fills a hole!" Reza backed away slowly. Plain meat and jelly? How common.
Even Tiger, the streetwise tabby, just laughed from his spot on a sunny garden wall. "A new home? Good luck with that! My human says we're cutting back. We're only allowed to chase the grey squirrels now, not the fancy red ones!"
Reza Shadey's magnificent fur was ruffled. He was cold, hungry and his pride was feeling very prickly. As a light rain began to fall, pitter-patter, he shivered under a hedge. A lowly earthworm wiggled past and seemed to laugh at him. Him! Reza Shadey! Laughed at by a worm!
Just as he was about to give up all hope, he saw a warm light. He stumbled towards it and found himself on the porch of "St. Whisker's Cat Shelter." Inside, he saw rows of cages and kind people in aprons. He crept in, hoping for a miracle, maybe even a forgotten tin of salmon.
The food was called "Economy Mousse" and was served lukewarm. His bed for the night was a shared scratch-post that had definitely lost all its bounce. A one-eared tabby cat kept trying to start a sing-along. It was a nightmare.
But then, Reza saw something that made him pause. He watched the kind people carefully sharing out the food, making sure every cat got a little bit. He saw them patching up old, worn-out blankets. Then, a tiny kitten in the cage next to him whispered, "My human cried when she left me here. She said she couldn't afford the vet's bills anymore."
Reza felt a strange, new feeling bubble up in his chest. Was it... humility? He quickly tucked his fancy collar, engraved with "Reza Shadey - Connoisseur of Fine Foods", under his fluff. For the first time, he felt a bit ashamed of his fussiness.
The very next morning, a frantic Mrs Higgins rushed into the shelter. Her eyes were red from crying, and she was putting up posters with his picture on them.
She spotted him. "Reza!" she cried with relief. Reza, trying to keep his dignity, pretended not to know her. He turned his head and gave his fur a slow, deliberate wash. But then... she opened a tin of budget tuna. The smell, while not gourmet, was... acceptable. His tummy rumbled a loud, traitorous RUMBLE-GURGLE!
He walked over. He took a bite. Then another. It was... tolerable. Barely. He allowed Mrs Higgins to scoop him up and take him home. Back in his own kitchen, she mixed the horrible brown nuggets with the juice from the cheap tuna. "We'll get through this, you cheeky thing", she whispered, stroking his fur.
Reza purred, a sound like a tiny, rumbling engine. "I shall endure this nugget-based diet... for now", he decided grandly. "But I shall expect a significant pay rise in the form of treats and cuddles!" Curled up on Mrs Higgins's warm lap, he closed his eyes. Outside, he could see Tiger and Tom watching through the window, looking a bit jealous. Reza had one last, sleepy thought. "Perhaps real luxury isn't a tin of fancy tuna... perhaps it's a lap that doesn't give up on you."
Night night. Sleep tight.