Story 114: Reza Shadey and the Feline Frozen Assets Fiasco
Okay, snuggle down tight, little ones.
Let me tell you about the morning when Catford woke up under the deepest, fluffiest, most perfect blanket of snow anyone could remember.
Everything was hushed. Even the pigeons sounded muffled, as if they were wearing tiny woolly socks. Reza Shadey, the very handsome Persian cat with fur like a fancy hotel rug, pressed his nose to the cold window.
His emerald eyes shone with the special sparkle that appears only when a cat smells... opportunity.
He did not think, "How beautiful". He did not think, "Snow angels!". He thought: "Supply! Demand! Scarcity! PROFIT!"
Within minutes, Reza was outside, wobbling proudly in Mrs Higgins's oversized gardening clogs (far too big, but very executive). He dragged her best wicker shopping basket behind him like a sled. In his paw was an empty tuna-pâté tub he'd labelled, in very serious wobbly letters: FELINE FROZEN ASSETS™ — LIMITED-EDITION.
He began scooping snow into perfect white bricks. Scoop! Pat! Stack! Soon, the basket held a neat pile of chilly cubes that looked suspiciously like very cold cheese.
Penelope — soft and white and floating around like a friendly snow-cloud — batted at a snowflake.
"Good morning, Penelope!" Reza announced grandly. "Have I got an exclusive pre-melt investment opportunity for you!"
Penelope blinked her calm, wise blink. "The sky is giving us free cold fluff", she said. "Isn't that nice?"
"Free?" Reza gasped, clutching imaginary pearls. "My dear associate, nothing is free! By eleven o'clock the sun will appear — scarcity! market timing! arbitrage!"
Penelope blinked again. "Rezzi... snow melts."
Reza waved this away with a dramatic flick of his tail. "That's just low financial literacy. I have accounted for the 'sublimation risk' with a highly sophisticated strategy." He had absolutely no idea what those words meant.
Just then, Ginger Tom trundled over, yawning so wide his fangs looked like icicles. "Morning... any chance of breakfast?"
Reza's whiskers quivered with excitement. Fresh capital!
"Tom! Perfect! For the low price of two morning biscuits, you can own one Feline Frozen Asset™. And by spring, when snow is scarce, it will be worth a whole tin of biscuits!"
Ginger Tom's tummy rumbled a loud GURRRRRGLE. A whole tin?! He pawed over two slightly chewed fish-shaped biscuits.
Reza accepted them with a solemn nod and handed Tom a "certificate of ownership" — a crisp oak leaf with a wonky snowflake drawn on it.
Just then, Tiger arrived in spectacular fashion: a bounce, a skid, a whirling tumble, and — WHUMPF! — straight into a snowdrift.
He popped up wearing a snowy beard. "SNOW! It's like cold clouds you can tunnel through! Look, Reza, I made a tunnel! Wanna see my tunnel?"
Reza paused mid-scoop. A kitten's attention span was famously short... but a kitten's toy collection was famously large.
"Tiger, my young entrepreneur", Reza purred, "how would you like to be Chief Operating Officer of Feline Frozen Assets™? The salary is one whole snow-brick — paid upfront — in exchange for... hmm... four of your finest bouncy balls."
Tiger gasped. "Four?! But the purple glittery one is my favourite!"
"Excellent negotiation", Reza said smoothly. "Four it is."
Tiger dropped his entire collection — red, blue, green, and the legendary purple — into Reza's paw. Reza placed a lopsided snowball into Tiger's mouth.
"Don't eat it", he warned. "That's your dividend."
Tiger immediately tried to eat it. The snowball collapsed down his chin. "Dividend paid!" he announced proudly.
When the basket was full of snow bricks, Reza dragged it inside. "Time to place these valuable assets in a high-security, climate-controlled vault", he said. The "vault" was the spot next to the kitchen radiator.
Penelope stared at the radiator. Then at the basket. Then at Reza. "Rezzi... that's warm."
"It is a Thermal-Accumulation Mitigation Strategy!" Reza declared, slamming the basket lid shut.
An hour later, the sun came out properly. At first gentle. Then serious.
Ginger Tom returned, tummy rumbling. "Reza... I want to look at my asset. I want to check it's still crunchy."
Reza puffed up proudly. "Prepare to be dazzled!"
He lifted the lid with a grand flourish. Inside the basket was — not three snow bricks, not even two, not even one. Just a shallow, sad, grey little puddle with some soggy leaves floating like confused boats.
Ginger Tom stared. "My biscuits", he whispered. "You turned them... into soup."
Tiger bounded in. "My dividend melted! Look — I can make slush angels!" He flopped into the puddle and wriggled joyfully.
Reza's brain began doing emergency gymnastics. "A-ha!" he cried. "This is a strategic phase transition! Your Feline Frozen Assets™ have matured into Feline Fluid Assets™! Highly concentrated! Extremely portable! Worth double!"
Ginger Tom looked at the puddle. Then at Reza. Then at the puddle again. "Reza... give me back my biscuits."
Tiger sat up, covered in grey goo. "And my bouncy balls. Especially the purple one."
Penelope gave Reza the slow, disappointed blink used only for cats who have been very, very silly.
Reza looked at his investors. The game was up. But admit defeat? Never! He stiffened his spine and smoothed his whiskers.
"Fine!" he declared with a haughty sniff. "It seems the market is simply not ready for liquid currency. I am hereby declaring a Market Correction. I shall issue a full bailout. Consider this a generous stimulus package from your Chairman."
With a heavy sigh (that was definitely not an apology), he opened his secret stash — hidden inside Mrs Higgins's spare welly — and gave Ginger Tom his biscuits back. Then he fished Tiger's soggy bouncy balls out of the puddle and placed them gently in his paws.
"There. You're welcome for the financial lesson", he purred, managing to look smug even while handing back his profits.
Tiger licked the purple ball clean and nuzzled Reza's ear. Ginger Tom munched happily. Penelope patted Reza's shoulder. "Sometimes, Rezzi", she murmured, "snow is just snow. You don't have to sell it."
Reza looked at his friends, at the melting garden, and felt something warm inside his chest. "Well then", he sighed, "next time, I'm investing in sunshine. That never melts. And I shall charge for premium sunbeam access."
Penelope purred. Tiger zoomed past shouting, "RACE YOU TO THE SLUSH MOUNTAIN!" And Ginger Tom shared half a biscuit.
Inside, Mrs Higgins smiled at the wet pawprints on her kitchen floor and quietly put the kettle on.
A very important message from Mrs Higgins: Be careful of anyone who uses big, complicated words to sell you something simple. If it sounds too good to be true... it probably melts by lunchtime.
Night night. Sleep tight.