Story 84: Reza Shadey and the Feline Intelligence Trials
One glorious morning, as the sun gilded his luxurious fur, Reza Shadey ascended the garden birdbath with the pomp of a tiny emperor. He raised one paw dramatically and boomed, "Attention, fellow felines! And other garden-dwellers of questionable brainpower! A dire lack of intellectual excellence afflicts this sector — and I, Reza Shadey, your humble... no, illustrious Chief Knowledge Officer, shall rectify it!"
He twirled a fallen leaf like a conductor's baton.
"Today marks the beginning of a new era: the Feline Intelligence Trials!"
Ginger Tom, lounging under a rose bush like a furry orange loaf, opened one eye.
"Oh, brilliant. Another 'Reza Revelation'. Wake me when the biscuits arrive, mate."
Penelope, poised with pristine white whiskers, tilted her head.
"Intelligence trials, Rezzi? How interesting. Will there be quizzes, or something more thoughtful?"
Reza's whiskers quivered with authority.
"Silence, my apprentices! We begin with a question of great importance: How many cats reside in the bustling feline jurisdiction of Catford?"
Tiger bounced straight into the air.
"Loads!"
"Unscientific", said Reza.
Ginger Tom shrugged.
"Seven?"
"Utter nonsense", said Reza.
Penelope's eyes sparkled.
"Enough to keep everyone busy, I should think."
Reza gasped.
"Avoiding the question is not the same as answering it!"
He drew himself up to full magnificence.
"The correct figure is... 31,395. Give or take a few feral individuals."
Tiger's eyes went wide.
"That's loads plus loads!"
"At last — a partially accurate observation", Reza muttered.
He held up a ragged leaf covered in clawed tally marks.
"Incorrect answers will move you down the ladder of intellectual greatness! Even fidgeting will result in immediate demotion! At the bottom, you face reassignment to the front garden — with the pigeons!"
Tiger gasped.
"Not the pigeons."
The trials continued.
"Question two: What is the optimal biscuit-to-nap ratio for a Tuesday?"
Ginger Tom sat up at once.
"Now we're talkin'. Is it... a full packet of crunchies, followed by a kip until Wednesday?"
"Incorrect", said Reza, slashing the leaf with great importance. The leaf tore slightly.
Reza froze.
"...A minor administrative adjustment", he added quickly, turning the leaf sideways.
"Next question: What is the best tail-flick for expressing proper disdain?"
Tiger immediately spun in a wild circle, chasing his own tail.
"Like this? Is this the one?"
He spun faster. And faster.
And faster.
Until — thump!
He bumped into the birdbath.
The birdbath wobbled.
Reza wobbled.
The entire "platform of authority" tilted dangerously.
"Stabilise the infrastructure!"Reza cried, windmilling his paws.
With a great splash, a little leftover rainwater tipped neatly over the edge... and onto Reza.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Tiger blinked.
"...Was that part of the test?"
Reza slowly shook one paw, as if nothing unusual had happened.
"Yes", he said stiffly. "A surprise resilience assessment. You passed. Barely. Minus ten points."
Penelope's brows knit gently.
"Is this teaching, Rezzi... or just demonstrating your ideas?"
Reza smiled smugly.
"A true visionary must set the standard."
As names slid down the slightly soggy leaf, Tiger's dangled off the edge, and even Ginger Tom began to look concerned.
"Hang on", Tom muttered. "If I drop any lower, do I still get biscuits?"
"Performance-based rewards are under review", Reza replied.
Penelope had an idea.
"Oh, most knowledgeable Chief", she purred softly, "might we ask a question, just to help us understand your system better?"
Reza puffed up like a proud soufflé.
"Of course. My knowledge is extensive."
Penelope smiled sweetly.
"If Catford has exactly 31,395 cats... how many dogs live there?"
Reza froze.
The breeze rustled the leaves.
Somewhere, a pigeon cooed.
Reza's whiskers twitched.
"Dogs?" he said faintly.
He cleared his throat.
"I — ahem — that is an invalid question. The rules clearly state that only questions for which I, know the answer are permitted!"
"It's in the small print!"
Snickers erupted.
Tiger rolled onto his back, giggling.
Ginger Tom snorted. "Convenient, that is."
From the kitchen window, Mrs Higgins laughed.
"Oh, Reza", she called. "What are you meowing about now, you silly sausage?"
Reza puffed himself up, fluffing his damp fur.
"This was merely a surprise test of emotional composure!" he declared. "And your laughter is highly disruptive to the learning environment!"
With great dignity — slightly soggy dignity — he stepped down from the birdbath... and slipped.
Skid.
Recover.
Tail flick.
"Intentional dismount", he muttered.
He marched behind the compost bin, leaf clenched firmly in his mouth.
Penelope, Ginger Tom, and Tiger exchanged knowing glances.
Behind the compost bin, Reza spread out the torn, damp leaf and began making furious new marks.
"Hmm", he murmured. "Several improvements required."
He nodded to himself.
"Next time, no audience questions..."
He paused.
"...and all correct answers will be pre-approved."
He nodded firmly.
"By me."
That seemed much better.
Night night. Sleep tight.