Pete's Expert Summary
My human seems to think these eight bottles of brightly-colored goo are for the smaller, louder version of them. They call it "paint," a substance for smearing on paper. From my perspective, this is not a toy, but a potential medium. The fact that it's "washable" and "non-toxic" is a significant point in its favor, as it minimizes the risk to my immaculate tuxedo and protects me from any ill-advised "taste tests." While I have no interest in whatever finger-painting nonsense they have planned, I see the potential for a more sophisticated application: paw-print art. It’s certainly a more intriguing prospect than another feather on a stick, provided they understand who the true artist is here.
Key Features
- Kids Bulk Paint Set – Cra-Z-Art features Classic Paint in 8 beautiful, vibrant colors
- Exclusive Amazon Bundle – This kids bulk pack of poster paint comes conveniently packed with red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, white and black
- This is a perfect for birthday parties, holiday gifts, and craft time to inspire creativity and self-expression
- Reliable, Quality Paint – Cra-Z-Art has 30 years of experience creating trustworthy, dependable craft supplies
- Safe and Fun - Cra-Z-Art paints are great for any craft project, made in the USA, are washable, and non-toxic
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The ceremony began, as it often does, with the crinkle of plastic and my human laying a protective sheet over the good rug. A wise precaution. She then unscrewed the caps on the Cra-Z-Art bottles, revealing a series of loud, undignified colors. Red, the color of the annoying laser dot I can never catch. Yellow, the shade of cheap, dry kibble. I watched from my perch on the armchair, my tail giving a slow, judgmental thump-thump-thump against the upholstery. This was clearly an affair for the small human, whose idea of art is to make every color brown. A waste of my valuable observational energy. My human, however, had other plans. "Pete, my handsome boy! Want to be an artist?" she chirped, dabbing a bit of the garish orange onto a paper plate. The sheer insult. Did she expect me to dip my pristine, white-gloved paws into that... that public-transit-seat-colored slime? I narrowed my eyes and gave her a look that communicated, quite clearly, that I would rather volunteer for a bath. She tried to coax me, waving the plate near my nose. I turned my head with the finality of a closing bank vault and began fastidiously cleaning an already immaculate shoulder. But then, a shift in the creative atmosphere. After the small human had created a Jackson Pollock-esque disaster and was summarily dispatched for "clean-up," my human was left with the supplies. She sighed, and for reasons I will never comprehend, she poured a small pool of the black paint onto a fresh plate. It wasn't a dull, dusty black. It was a deep, glossy black, the color of a starless midnight, the color of my own pupils when I spot a particularly foolish moth. It was serious. It was profound. It gleamed under the lamp light, a void of pure potential. My cynicism faltered. I rose, stretched languidly, and hopped down from my throne. I approached not because she called, but because the art demanded it. I padded silently to the plate, ignoring the human's sharp, hopeful intake of breath. I extended a single, noble paw, dipped the pads into the cool, surprisingly pleasant goo, and stepped onto the clean sheet of paper beside the plate. I left one, perfect, deliberate print. A signature. An abstract statement on the fleeting nature of existence. Then, without a backward glance, I stalked off to find a sunbeam, leaving the human to marvel at the masterpiece. It was, I grudgingly admit, a worthy medium for my genius.
