Story 1: Reza Shadey is Hungry
Okay, snuggle down tight, little ones. Let me tell you a tale about a very cheeky and magnificently fluffy cat whose tummy was always rumbling for more.
His name was Reza Shadey, a handsome Persian cat with light brown fur streaked with black and large, bright green eyes that gleamed with mischief. He lived in a cosy house with his human, Mrs Higgins, in a cheerful neighbourhood somewhere not too far from Catford. To Reza, the garden was not just a garden; it was his kingdom, and he was its undisputed Boss.
But what does a Boss love more than his kingdom? His dinner! And not just his own dinner. Reza Shadey was always thinking about everyone's dinner. He was a very food-focused feline!
Every afternoon, as the sun began to dip, Reza would stretch his paws, yawn a mighty yawn, and slip out of the cat flap. Tip-tap, tip-tap went his paws. He wasn't looking for birds or butterflies. Oh no. Reza Shadey was on a mission. A mission for supplementary snacks!
First, he spotted elegant Penelope, basking beside her bowl of yummy fishy bits. Reza's nose twitched. His own dinner had been perfectly adequate, but this was an opportunity for... more. He needed a distraction. A brilliant one.
He crept closer, his expression suddenly one of wide-eyed wonder. "Penelope!" he gasped dramatically, pointing a paw towards the garden shed. "Look! A magnificent, jewel-encrusted butterfly! Its wings sparkle like a thousand tiny rainbows! Such a rare specimen has never been seen in this garden before!"
Penelope, who was very sensible, blinked her big, calm eyes. She glanced at the shed, then back at Reza's intense stare, which was fixed firmly on her food bowl. "How lovely, Rezzi", she purred softly, and then, very deliberately, she ate her fishy bits even faster. Gulp, gulp, gone!
Reza Shadey's whiskers drooped with indignation. "Hmph. No appreciation for the dramatic arts", he sniffed, stalking away. His next target was Ginger Tom, a sturdy orange cat who was contentedly crunching his way through a bowl of biscuits on a nearby wall.
"Tom, my dear fellow!" Reza hissed urgently, his eyes wide with fake alarm. "Did you hear that? A rustling in the bushes! I'm almost certain it's the legendary Biscuit Badger of Catford, known for hoarding the crunchiest biscuits in his secret underground lair! We must investigate at once!"
Ginger Tom stopped crunching. He looked at the bushes. He looked at Reza. He looked at his own half-eaten bowl. Then he let out a great, big yawn and continued eating. "Badgers don't eat biscuits, Reza", he mumbled through a mouthful. "Everyone knows that."
Defeated again! Reza Shadey walked on, feeling cross and still very hungry for other cats' food. On his way home, he tried to squeeze under the garden gate. But his magnificent, fluffy tummy got a bit stuck! He wiggled. He waggled. "Meeeow!" he cried, feeling rather silly.
Luckily, Mrs Higgins came out to see what the fuss was about. "Oh, Reza, you cheeky thing!" she laughed, opening the gate wide. Freed from his predicament, Reza felt a surge of inspiration. His plans hadn't failed because they were bad; they had failed because of poor timing!
He trotted back through his cat flap, and what did he find? His very own bowl, piled high with his favourite crunchy biscuits! As he munched them all up, he made a very important decision. "Hmph. The timing was off. I must begin my foraging operations earlier tomorrow, before the others have consumed their rations. Much more efficient."
Then, with his tummy full and his mind buzzing with better, sneakier plans for tomorrow, he curled up in his warm bed and purred himself to sleep.
Night night. Sleep tight.