Story 79: Reza Shadey and the Posh Pretender
It was a blustery day in England, the kind where the wind from the coast seemed to chase leaves around for sport. Reza Shadey, magnificent as ever, was balanced perfectly on the windowsill, supervising the leafy chaos with a critical eye. Suddenly, Mrs Higgins arrived home, wrestling a pet carrier so shiny and new it reflected the clouds sailing by.
"Special visitor, Reza! All the way from Ramsgate!" she chirped. Inside the carrier, nestled amongst silky cushions and beside a miniature fan, was another Persian cat. He was reclining — actually reclining — wearing tiny sunglasses and a floral neck ruffle. Reza's tail gave a single, solid THUMP against the windowpane. "He's reclining? Inside a basket?! The sheer audacity!"
This was Cosmo Shadey, Reza's cousin. He glided out of the carrier like a breeze from a fancy soap advert. "I do hope your biscuits are cruelty-free", he murmured, giving Mrs Higgins a slow, appreciative blink. Later, in the garden, he was an instant sensation. Penelope actually blushed when he complimented her "wonderfully symmetrical whiskers". Ginger Tom tried to copy Cosmo's elegant tail flick and promptly tripped over his own shadow.
Reza loudly declared, "I too am fashionable. My fur is... naturally eccentric", but no one heard him. They were all mesmerised as Cosmo sniffed a dandelion with the deep concentration of a true artist. Cosmo claimed to be an arty jet-setter. "I was just advising Ecat Meowsk of VeryHigh-X on the interior design for his new catio", he'd mentioned casually. "He has absolutely no sense of minimalist paw-décor."
Cosmo soon disappeared to "refresh his aesthetic". He returned wearing miniature paw-liners — "Italian silk, darling" — and a velvet collar embroidered with tiny, shimmering fish. This was too much for Reza. He raided the compost bin and created his own rival ensemble: a wilting lettuce leaf for a cape, an old sock for a hat, and a crumpled gift ribbon he'd found stuck to a banana peel. It read: 'Happy Birthday Beatrice!'.
Penelope let out a polite scream. Tiger bounced over. "Have you joined a salad, Reza?" he asked, genuinely curious. Reza puffed out his chest. "It's called Avant-Garden", he announced haughtily.
The competition continued. Cosmo set up a tiny easel and began painting abstract mouse silhouettes, which he said were "inspired by existential crumb theory". Reza, not to be outdone, dipped his magnificent tail in leftover gravy and made frantic spirals on a piece of kitchen roll. "It's post-snack performance art", he explained to a confused-looking snail. Mrs Higgins found Cosmo's painting so charming she hung it in the hallway. Reza's gravy masterpiece got stuck to the fridge by accident when he leaned on it while trying to steal a bit of cheese.
At afternoon tea, Cosmo delicately declined a biscuit with a sigh. "Carbs are terribly clingy", he murmured. Reza, trying to sound just as sophisticated, declared loudly, "Carpets are very clingy!" and proceeded to wipe his face vigorously on the rug. Mrs Higgins gently offered him a biscuit anyway. Reza took it, crunched with enormous volume, and said in his best imitation of his cousin, "Mmm. Le crunch magnifique." Cosmo sighed. "A bold interpretation."
That night, as everyone gathered in the garden, Cosmo gazed at the moon and called it "adequate". Reza tried to say something poetic but accidentally let out a small burp instead. Cosmo looked at him, not with disdain, but with a surprising kindness in his eyes. "You're wonderfully... unrehearsed", he said softly. Reza felt a strange wobble in his chest. "He pities me!" he thought indignantly. "A weakness! I must exploit this later for extra snacks."
The next morning, Cosmo was gone. The shiny carrier, the fan, the sunglasses — all vanished. On Reza's favourite cushion lay a postcard of the Ramsgate harbour, with a paw print signature. It read: "To Cousin Reza – You are almost art. Never stop fluffing. C x". Reza sniffed. Then, with great ceremony, he used a bit of sticky sap from a leaf to tape the postcard to the wall above his food bowl.
Later that day, Reza was admiring his new trophy when he overheard Mrs Higgins on the phone. "Yes, hello, Ramsgate Cat Sanctuary?... Oh, that's wonderful news!... Yes, Cosmo was an absolute delight... No, of course I didn't let on about his owner losing her home. He kept up his posh little act the whole time, bless him... A new home, you say? Oh, that's the best news. He's such a sensitive soul."
Reza froze, the truth hitting him like a splash of cold water. Cosmo had been homeless and hard up? A sanctuary? His stylish, infuriating cousin was a pretender, just trying to be brave. He processed this new information, not with pity, but with a surge of supreme satisfaction. He hadn't been fooled for a second! (He had, of course, been completely fooled).
He sauntered into the garden where the others were discussing the visitor. "I knew it all along", Reza announced, interrupting Ginger Tom's nap. "That 'posh' act was a clever, but ultimately transparent, ruse. My superior intellect saw through his flimsy facade from the very beginning. I merely played along to test his resolve." Penelope looked from Reza's smug face to the house where Cosmo had stayed, and shook her head with a gentle smile. "What a fibber", she purred, but she was looking right at Reza when she said it.
Night night. Sleep tight.