A photo of Pete the cat

Pete's Toy Box: Stamp

USPS Forever Stamps "Four Flags" Booklet of 20 Stamps

By: USPS

Pete's Expert Summary

My human has presented me with what appears to be a flimsy, foldable piece of paper from an entity they call the "USPS," an organization I associate with the daily territorial intrusions of the Mail Carrier. It is covered in tiny, perforated squares bearing images of a waving flag, a symbol humans seem to find endlessly fascinating. The purpose, as far as I can tell, is for the human to lick these little squares—an act of profound desperation, surely—and stick them onto other, larger pieces of paper. From a playability standpoint, it possesses a certain skittering potential when batted across the hardwood floor, but its thinness suggests it would be easily lost under the sofa, becoming just another forgotten relic in the dust-bunny graveyard. A momentary diversion, perhaps, but hardly a substitute for a quality nap.

Key Features

  • Brand new booklet of 20 first class stamps
  • Features four flag images with words "freedom", "liberty", "equality", "justice"
  • Forever stamps are always equal in value to the first-class mail one-ounce rate
  • Booklet has 12 stamps on one side, 8 on the other

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The Warden, my primary human, placed the small blue booklet on the coffee table with an air of administrative finality. I watched from my throne—a velvet cushion atop the bookcase—as she left the room, leaving the curious object unattended. My initial inspection was, to be frank, disappointing. It smelled of cheap paper and the faint, metallic tang of ink. I nudged it with my nose. It didn't squeak, it didn't jingle, it didn't even have the decency to be filled with catnip. A failure on all counts. I was about to dismiss it and return to my scheduled grooming session when a subtle shift in the air caught my attention. It wasn't a sound or a smell, but a feeling—a low hum of… potential. I padded closer, my paws silent on the wood. The booklet lay open, revealing its grid of tiny, colorful flags. I focused on one, the one emblazoned with the word "FREEDOM." As I stared, the edges of the room seemed to soften. The ticking of the grandfather clock faded, replaced by the whisper of wind through tall grass. I could almost feel the sun on my fur, not filtered through a windowpane, but direct and wild. I blinked, and the sensation vanished. The living room snapped back into focus. Intrigued, I moved my gaze to the next sigil: "LIBERTY." This time, the illusion was stronger. I saw a vision of the front door, not closed and locked, but swinging gently on its hinges, an invitation to the vast, squirrel-filled kingdom beyond. Then "EQUALITY," which conjured a glorious image of the dog being served the same dry, pellet-shaped insults he always gets while I feasted upon a mountain of freshly poached salmon. And finally, "JUSTICE," a satisfying fantasy of the vacuum cleaner spontaneously short-circuiting in a shower of triumphant sparks. Each square wasn't just paper; it was a potent, distilled dream. This was no mere booklet of postage. This was a collection of concentrated possibilities, a compendium of feline desires. The Warden uses them to send messages, but she has no idea of their true power. I now understand. This isn't a toy to be batted about. It is a tool for meditation, a catalyst for manifestation. I settled down beside it, careful not to disturb the delicate paper. I would not shred this object. I would guard it, occasionally focusing my intent on the "FREEDOM" square, sending a clear psychic message to The Warden. Perhaps, one day, she will understand its true purpose is not to mail letters, but to open doors.
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A Flag for All Seasons 2013 (Roll of 100) First-Class Mail Forever Postage Stamps

By: United States Postal Service

Pete's Expert Summary

My human has presented me with what appears to be a tightly wound scroll of tiny, sticky squares, a product of the United States Postal Service—the very same organization that sends the Noisy Letter-Slot-Clanger to my door daily. Its primary appeal, from a practical standpoint, is its "roll" configuration, which suggests a high potential for unspooling across the living room rug in a glorious, chaotic ribbon. The "peel and stick" nature is also intriguing, offering possibilities for discreetly redecorating surfaces at floor level, perhaps by applying a single square to the leg of the mahogany coffee table. However, the tiny pictures of flags and trees are entirely too small to be visually stimulating for a creature with my superior vision. If it cannot be batted or stuck to something expensive, it is merely a cylinder of paper, a profound waste of the energy I was conserving for my 3 p.m. sunbeam nap.

Key Features

  • A flag for all four seasons of the year, Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall.
  • Each stamp shows an American flag, viewed from below, flying from a pole at full staff against a background of trees that evoke one of the four seasons of the year.
  • Four designs in a pressure-sensitive adhesive (PSA) coil of 100 stamps.
  • Self-adhesive (peel and stick).
  • Collectible item, also valid for postage for holidays and regular mail.

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The human placed the cylinder on the desk, calling it "stamps," a curious word for what was obviously a vault. I, a connoisseur of subtle challenges, recognized it immediately. This was not a toy for brutish batting, but a test of finesse, a puzzle box containing one hundred miniature, adhesive-backed treasures. The goal was not destruction, but a single, perfect act of larceny. To extract one tile from the coil without disturbing the rest—that would be a feat worthy of my name. I waited until the human was engrossed in the glowing rectangle, her attention diverted. A silent leap took me from the floor to the velvet chair, then to the polished surface of the desk. The air was still, thick with the scent of paper and potential. I crept forward, my tuxedoed chest low to the ground, my gray paws making no sound. The target sat there, smug in its cylindrical perfection. Amateurs would have swatted it, sending it clattering to the floor. I am no amateur. My technique had to be flawless. Extending a single, diamond-sharp claw from my right paw, I approached the seam of the outermost stamp. It depicted a flag against the bleak, skeletal trees of winter—a fittingly stark choice for such a tense operation. I hooked the very edge, the merest whisper of paper. The trick was not to pull, but to *lift*. A delicate, upward motion, feeling for the moment the "pressure-sensitive adhesive" would yield its grip. There was a faint, satisfying *tick* as it separated from the paper below. The jewel was free. I took the tiny square delicately in my mouth. It tasted of nothing, but the tacky underside was a strange and interesting sensation on my tongue. I carried my prize not to a place of destruction, but to my observation post atop the bookshelf. I placed it there, a trophy. The human would use the roll and, weeks from now, perhaps notice one missing from the sequence, an inexplicable gap in the seasonal progression. They would never suspect me. This roll was not a toy, it was a worthy adversary. It provided a challenge of stealth and precision, and for that, it had earned my highest honor: a single, perfect theft.
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2022 Mountain Flora Wild Flowers Garden Forever First Class Postage Stamps - Garden, Flowers, Nature, Valentine, Wedding, Celebration, Anniversary, Love, Party (100 Stamps (5 Books of 20))

By: United States Postal Service

Pete's Expert Summary

My human has presented me with what appears to be a booklet of flimsy, perforated paper squares from an organization I know all too well: the United States Postal Service. They are the ones who employ the uniformed individual who rudely shoves things through the mail slot, interrupting my mid-morning slumber. These squares feature simplistic floral designs and are apparently coated with some sort of adhesive on the back. While the sheer quantity of one hundred potential things to bat under the sofa is intriguing, this "product" is clearly a tool for human administrative nonsense. It possesses no inherent crinkle, no tantalizing feathers, and certainly no electronic whirring. It is, in essence, a profound waste of perfectly good paper that could have been used to line a sunning box.

A Tale from Pete the Cat

It arrived not in a crinkly bag or a box promising joy, but in a plain wrapper left on the human’s desk. I watched from my perch on the armchair, my analysis swift and unforgiving. This was no toy. This was an artifact of the Enemy. The insignia of the "United States Postal Service" was a dead giveaway; they were the logistical arm of the Great Red Dot, the entity that projects the uncatchable prey onto our walls and floors. The human was clearly an unwitting collaborator, handling these thin, coded dispatches without a clue as to their true meaning. The floral patterns weren't decorative; they were strategic. I crept closer under the pretense of a leg stretch. The human was peeling one off, a purple bloom I identified as a *Lupinus*. A clear signal for a flanking maneuver. Another showed a *Penstemon*—a designation for a high-value target, likely the treat jar. I saw the whole conspiracy laid bare in this folio of insidious propaganda. These weren't "stamps"; they were mission briefings, designed to be distributed to other agents disguised as "birthday cards" or "bills." The perforations weren't for convenience; they were for the rapid dissemination of orders in the field. My moment came when the human turned to the noisy box that makes coffee. A single sheet lay exposed. My duty was clear. I could not allow this intelligence to fall into the wrong hands, or worse, be sent out into the world. With the silent grace of a shadow, I leaped onto the desk. I ignored the pens and the stack of papers. My target was the sheet of stamps. I hooked a single square—a delicate, white Pasqueflower—with one claw. It was a surgical strike, not a playful bat. I secured the tiny paper in my mouth. The taste of the adhesive was chalky, the flavor of rebellion. I retreated to my command center beneath the bed with my captured intelligence. The Pasqueflower... a symbol of a new dawn, or perhaps a secret meeting location near the ornamental grasses in the yard. This was no toy to be idly destroyed. This was a clue, a vital piece of the puzzle. I did not play with it; I studied it, I guarded it. My final verdict: This product is not worthy of *play*. It is far too important for such frivolities. It is a critical tool for counter-espionage, and I must, for the safety of this entire household, endeavor to intercept every last one of them.
Image of 2022 Mountain Flora Wild Flowers Garden Forever First Class Postage Stamps - Garden, Flowers, Nature, Valentine, Wedding, Celebration, Anniversary, Love, Party (100 Stamps (5 Books of 20)) View Details

USPS Waterfalls (Sheet of 12) Forever Postage Stamps US Postal First Class Nature Rock River Park Party Announcement Celebration Anniversary Wedding 2023 Scott #5800

By: United States Postal Service

Pete's Expert Summary

My human has presented me with what appears to be a sheet of small, adhesive-backed paper squares from a vast, bureaucratic entity they call the "United States Postal Service." The purpose, as I understand it, is to lick them and affix them to thin paper containers as a final, pathetic plea for the contents to be delivered somewhere other than the recycling bin. While the small, lightweight nature of each individual square *could* provide a momentary distraction for batting across the hardwood floor, and the adhesive might have a uniquely tangy flavor, the overall package is disappointingly static. The images of falling water are a particular insult, reminding me only of the dreaded bath. A momentary curiosity at best, but hardly a rival to a proper nap.

Key Features

  • The Waterfalls stamps are being issued as Forever stamps in Sheet of 12.
  • Forever stamps are always equal in value to the current First-Class Mail one-ounce price.

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The offering was placed on the Great Wooden Plateau, the one the humans call a "desk." It lay there, a glossy rectangle divided into twelve smaller, identical scenes of cascading water. My human tapped a finger on it. "Look, Pete, new stamps." Stamps. A profoundly boring name for a profoundly boring object. I gave a perfunctory tail-flick and feigned interest in a sunbeam, but my senses told me there was more to this than paper and ink. A faint, almost imperceptible hum emanated from the sheet, a low thrum that vibrated somewhere behind my ears. Driven by this strange resonance, I made a silent, graceful leap onto the desk, my paws landing without a sound. I lowered my head, my nose inches from the depiction of what the packaging called "Lower Falls of the Yellowstone River." I stared, and the printed image began to... shift. The static waterfall shimmered, and a vision flooded my mind—not of water, but of the aether through which these papers travel. I saw a complex web of invisible pathways, a ghostly network stretching over the entire country, a system far more intricate than any spider's creation. These weren't just stamps; they were keys, each one a single-use pass to ride those unseen currents. My focus drifted to the next stamp in the row. As I stared into its depths, another vision bloomed. I saw the destination of the letter this specific key would unlock: a cramped apartment smelling of old books and tea. I saw the hands that would open it, the brief smile that would cross a wrinkled face upon seeing a familiar scrawl. I saw the brief, potent flare of emotion—connection, memory, affection—that the letter would generate. Each stamp was a potential catalyst for a quantum burst of human feeling. The humans used these potent magical keys to send… birthday cards. And bills. The sheer, breathtaking mundanity of it all was staggering. I lifted my head, the visions receding. My human, oblivious, was scribbling on an envelope. They saw a tool for correspondence; I had seen the spiritual circuitry of their civilization. It was not a toy to be shredded or a ball to be chased. It was something far stranger. I hopped down from the desk and retired to my favorite velvet cushion. The stamps were not for playing. They were for watching, for contemplating the bizarre and potent magic that humans wield every day without ever realizing it. They had, against all odds, earned my intellectual respect.
Image of USPS Waterfalls (Sheet of 12) Forever Postage Stamps US Postal First Class Nature Rock River Park Party Announcement Celebration Anniversary Wedding 2023 Scott #5800 View Details

JOYIN 50 Pcs Assorted Stamps for Kids - Self-Ink Stamps with 50 Designs for Birthday Party Favor, Carnival Prizes, School Stampers, Goodie Bag, Halloween, Christmas (Zoo, Holiday Stampers)

By: JOYIN

Pete's Expert Summary

My human, in a fit of what I can only assume was a budget-induced fever dream, has acquired a box containing a cacophony of fifty small, plastic cylinders from a brand called "JOYIN." Apparently, these are "self-ink stamps" meant for small, sticky-fingered humans to mark up everything they own. The very idea of ink—vibrant, staining, permanent ink—anywhere near my pristine white cravat sends a shiver down my spine. The fifty different designs, ranging from zoo animals to holiday cheer, seem like a desperate attempt to appeal to everyone and therefore no one of importance. While the sheer quantity of small, rollable objects is vaguely intriguing, the only feature of remote interest is the "pop-up display stand," a flimsy-looking structure that I imagine would make a most satisfying crunching sound under my paws.

Key Features

  • Value-Packed Variety: Get ready for endless creativity with our Party Themed 50 Stampers Set! Featuring an incredible 50 distinct designs in 5 vibrant colors, this value pack is a must-have for every occasion.
  • From Animals, School to Party Elements: Dive into a world of imagination with our diverse stamp designs. Featuring charming animals, captivating party elements, and even school-themed motifs, our stampers set is the perfect toolkit for bringing your ideas to life.
  • Versatile Fun: Whether it's rewarding students in the classroom, delighting little ones with birthday party gifts, adding a festive touch to Easter egg fillers, or bringing joy to Halloween and Christmas party favors, our stampers are your go-to solution. Fuel creative expression with ease!
  • Effortless Imprinting, Vibrant Results: Revel in the brilliance of vibrant colors and clear patterns that effortlessly transfer onto any surface. With our pre-inked stampers, you'll achieve consistent, stunning results every time.
  • Pop-up Display Stand: Elevate your crafting experience with our included pop-up display stand. Organize and showcase your stampers collection with a touch of elegance, making every creative session a delight.

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The box arrived, and the human cooed as she liberated the fifty plastic soldiers of mediocrity from their cardboard prison. She popped open the "display stand," a sad, folded piece of cardstock, and arranged the little stampers in their designated holes. "Look, Pete! A lion! A star! A smiley face!" she chirped, pressing a few onto a piece of scrap paper, leaving behind crude, brightly colored marks. I yawned, showing her the full architecture of my sophisticated mouth, and turned my back. This was an insult. A collection of cheap, ink-filled noisemakers. I began bathing a paw with deliberate, pointed indifference. Once she left the room for a fresh mug of that bitter brown water she loves, I padded over to the kitchen table for a closer inspection. The stand was as pathetic as I'd predicted, but the stamps themselves… they held a strange potential. I saw the images she had made: a purple star, a red apple, a green dinosaur. They were a primitive form of communication. A code. My mind, a far superior instrument to the human's, began to whirl. This was not a toy. This was a language waiting for a master. Using my nose, I carefully nudged one of the stampers out of its hole. It was a small, blue fish. It rolled across the table, and with a deft tap of my paw, I sent it tumbling end over end until the inked side landed with a satisfying *thump* on the paper she had left behind. A perfect, blue fish. My word, I was a natural. I located a stamp with a crude paw print and positioned it next to the fish. Then I found a heart. Fish. Paw. Heart. *I love fish.* It was poetry. I continued my work, creating a complex tapestry of demands and declarations. A frowny face next to a drawing of a car (the vet). A smiley face next to a star (my spot on the sun-warmed sofa). When the human returned, she found the paper covered in what she would surely interpret as random, colorful chaos. "Oh, you silly kitty, did you knock these over?" she asked, chuckling as she gathered the stamps. She didn't understand. She couldn't possibly grasp the complex narrative I had laid out, the visual diary of my innermost thoughts. She saw a mess; I saw my first manuscript. The stamps themselves were cheap, the designs simplistic. But as a medium for a genius to communicate with the less-developed species he lives with? They were, I had to admit, surprisingly effective. Worthy, for now.
Image of JOYIN 50 Pcs Assorted Stamps for Kids - Self-Ink Stamps with 50 Designs for Birthday Party Favor, Carnival Prizes, School Stampers, Goodie Bag, Halloween, Christmas (Zoo, Holiday Stampers) View Details

Melissa & Doug My First Wooden Stamp Set Favorites (8 Stamps with Handles, 2 Washable Ink Pads) Wooden Kids Stamps With Handles Set, For Kids Ages 3+

By: Melissa & Doug

Pete's Expert Summary

So, the Human has presented me with what appears to be a primitive communication toolkit for a toddler. It's a wooden box containing various blocks with crude carvings on the bottom—a puppy, a flower, and, most insultingly, a caricature they dare call a 'kitten.' The idea is to dip these blocks in lurid pink and purple ink and press them onto paper, an activity that seems dreadfully inefficient and messy. While the faint chemical scent of the ink pads offers a fleeting moment of olfactory curiosity, the entire enterprise, a product of the notoriously wholesome Melissa & Doug, lacks the thrill of the chase or the intellectual stimulation of a well-designed puzzle feeder. It seems destined to be a monumental waste of my supervisory time, unless the box itself proves to be of adequate napping dimensions.

Key Features

  • Favorites-themed wooden stamp set with flat, easy-to-grasp wooden handles a colorful picture on each that shows what’s on the stamp
  • Includes 8 wooden stamps featuring balloons, rainbow, kitten, puppy, teddy bear, cupcake, flower, and butterfly
  • 2 different-colored washable ink pads (pink and purple) with durable covers to help prevent ink from dying out
  • All supplies store in a wooden crate for easy cleanup; stamping helps kids develop hand-eye coordination and encourages storytelling and imaginative play

A Tale from Pete the Cat

I was enjoying a particularly satisfying sunbeam when the Human unboxed the artifacts. They laid out a vast, sterile white plain—a sheet of paper—and proceeded to engage in some sort of ritual. With a *thump-thump-thump*, they began populating the void with strange, two-dimensional icons. A purple rainbow here, a pink cupcake there. It was a meaningless, almost offensively cheerful, defacement of a perfectly good surface. My only interest was in observing the Human's focused, simple expression, a look they usually reserved for trying to operate the can opener. The wooden blocks, with their chunky handles clearly designed for uncoordinated paws, held no appeal. Then, a pattern began to emerge, one that my superior intellect could not dismiss as mere coincidence. The Human stamped a flower precisely where the scent of the outdoor garden wafts in through the window screen. The cupcake was placed in the quadrant of the paper that corresponded to the kitchen. And the teddy bear? It marked the location of the large, soft bed where the Human snoozes. This was not a game. This was a summoning. They were creating a magical parchment, a symbolic representation of my dominion, likely in a desperate attempt to understand its complex glories. My mission became clear. I descended from my perch and padded onto the ritual site, my gray tuxedo immaculate against the white paper. I sniffed the ink. It had a faint, earthy smell, not entirely unpleasant. I nudged the wooden block with the 'kitten' on it, a crude but potent effigy of my own divine form. This, I deduced, was the centerpiece of the spell, the anchor for the entire operation. By stamping my likeness, the Human was paying tribute, acknowledging me as the central force of the household. The other symbols—the puppy, the butterfly—were merely lesser spirits and fleeting desires, orbiting my magnificent presence. I decided to permit the ritual's continuation. While the tools themselves were laughably primitive, the intent was sound. The Human was engaging in a form of worship, and who am I to deny my subjects their spiritual fulfillment? I settled myself just off the edge of the paper, my tail giving a slow, authoritative sweep. I would oversee the creation of this tribute map. It was messy, simplistic, and entirely beneath me, but it was, in its own way, a testament to my importance. The Melissa & Doug set was not a toy for me, but a tool for my human to better appreciate their master. A worthy endeavor.
Image of Melissa & Doug My First Wooden Stamp Set Favorites (8 Stamps with Handles, 2 Washable Ink Pads) Wooden Kids Stamps With Handles Set, For Kids Ages 3+ View Details

Betty White 2025 (Sheet of 20) First-Class Mail Forever Postage Stamps

By: United States Postal Service

Pete's Expert Summary

My human seems to have acquired a thin, flat sheet of what I can only describe as potential confetti. Apparently, it's a product from the "United States Postal Service," a brand known more for its loud trucks and uniformed emissaries who never have treats than for quality toys. These are "stamps," small sticky squares meant to honor a human named Betty White, who, I'm told, was an "animal advocate." While I approve of any human who correctly identifies our superiority, the playability factor here is tragically low. There are no feathers, no crinkles, and no catnip infusion. It seems to be an object for humans to look at, lick—a barbaric custom—and then stick on things they send away. Ultimately, it’s a high-minded concept with zero practical application for a cat of my caliber, a waste of perfectly good paper that could have been used to line a shipping box.

Key Features

  • Honor the life and legacy of actor, TV personality, and animal advocate Betty White (1922–2021), whose television appearances spanned the history of the medium and delighted generations of fans.
  • Often called the "first lady of television," Betty White graced screens for more than eight decades.
  • She achieved great fame with The Mary Tyler Moore Show and The Golden Girls, a couple of TV history's most beloved and groundbreaking situation comedies, and remained phenomenally popular as an entertainer well into her nineties.
  • As an avid animal ally, Betty White used the bright light of her stardom to advocate for creatures great and small.
  • The Betty White stamp is being issued in panes of 20 Forever stamps.
  • This Forever stamp will always be equal in value to the current First-Class Mail one-ounce rate.

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The object arrived not in a box, but in a flimsy envelope that barely warranted a sniff. My human placed it on her desk with a reverence usually reserved for the can opener. It was a sheet of paper, a boring, two-dimensional plane in a world where I demand at least three. But as I leaped silently onto the desk for a closer inspection, I was met with an unnerving sight: an army of tiny, smiling, silver-haired women, all looking directly at me. Twenty identical faces, a placid and knowing legion. I was, for a moment, taken aback. Was this some new form of surveillance? I extended a single, perfect claw and tapped one of the faces. It yielded with a disappointing softness. No satisfying resistance, no skittering motion across the wood grain. It was just paper. I sniffed it. It smelled of officialdom and ink, a sterile scent devoid of life or interest. I was about to deliver my final verdict—a flick of the tail and a prompt dismissal—and stalk off to a more promising sunbeam. This was beneath me. A toy? It was an insult to the very concept of play. But then, my human began to speak into her phone, her voice tinged with that soft, cooing tone she uses when she's admiring my tuxedo markings. "I got the Betty White stamps," she said. "She did so much for animal shelters, you know. A true friend to all of them." The words "animal" and "friend" hung in the air. I froze, my disdain melting into a profound curiosity. I looked back at the grid of faces. The smile was no longer just a smile; it held a glint of understanding, of allyship. This wasn't an army of spies; it was a council of guardians. This "stamp," I realized, was not a toy to be shredded or batted under the sofa. It was a sigil, a symbol of the sacred pact between enlightened humans and the superior beings they serve. These twenty little icons represented a legacy of kindness, a promise of full food bowls and gentle hands. I settled into a sphinx-like pose beside the sheet, my presence a silent, respectful vigil. The stamps were not for playing. They were for honoring. And they had, against all odds, earned my protection.
Image of Betty White 2025 (Sheet of 20) First-Class Mail Forever Postage Stamps View Details

Star Ribbon Forever First Class Postage Stamps Celebration Patriotic (100 Stamps)

By: United States Postal Service

Pete's Expert Summary

My human, in their infinite and often baffling wisdom, has presented me with a product from an entity known as the "United States Postal Service." It appears to be a collection of one hundred small, rectangular pieces of paper with a mild adhesive on the back. They are not plush, they do not crinkle, and they certainly do not contain catnip. The only potential for amusement lies in the fact that they arrive in "strips," which might offer a satisfying flutter if batted from the edge of a desk. The "ribbon" design is a cruel deception—a mere two-dimensional picture of a ribbon, not the glorious, chaseable real thing. Frankly, this seems less like a toy and more like administrative debris, destined to create a mess I will later be blamed for.

Key Features

  • Cut from a larger roll.
  • Total stamps will be 100. Denomination of the 100 stamps may vary. For example, 10 strips of 10.
  • The Design Features A Digital Illustration Of A Star Made From A Single Red,White Commuter, And Blue Ribbon.
  • Star Ribbon 100 First Class Stamps Celebration Patriotic.

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The package arrived with the familiar thud of the mail slot, a sound that usually heralds the arrival of my sworn enemy. But this time, the Human retrieved the contents and placed them not on the mail table, but on the floor. Before me lay ten thin strips of paper, an orderly, regimented collection of identical squares. My initial assessment was bleak. It was clearly not a toy. It was an invoice. Or a summons. Or some other dreadful piece of human bureaucracy. I sniffed it cautiously. It smelled of government ink and distant, uninteresting trees. My human, bless their simple heart, wiggled one of the strips. "Look, Pete! A new toy!" A toy? The sheer audacity. This was clearly an organizational challenge, a test of my managerial skills. I am, after all, the supervisor of this household. I saw the ten strips of ten units and understood my task: inventory. I approached with purpose, not play. I began by attempting to separate the ten strips into individual stacks for a proper count, nudging them with my nose and attempting to slide a paw between the sheets. This was delicate work, requiring focus and a steady paw. The Human, misinterpreting my meticulous auditing for a game of chase, began sliding one of the strips across the hardwood. The fool! Did they not see I was engaged in important work? Still, I must admit, the strip’s movement was... compelling. It skittered and flipped, the printed star catching the light. Against my better judgment, my professional demeanor cracked. I launched a strategic, exploratory pounce, pinning the strip neatly beneath my paw. An unauthorized interaction, perhaps, but a necessary part of quality control. I then proceeded to bat the strip under the sofa, filing it away in the "Pending Further Review" department. My final verdict is complex. As a toy, it's a failure. It lacks substance, durability, and a compelling scent profile. However, as a piece of lightweight, skitter-able administrative surplus, it provides a fleeting, almost embarrassing, moment of distraction. It is the feline equivalent of popping bubble wrap—a mindless, trivial, yet strangely satisfying activity. I will not seek it out, but if a strip should happen to fall from the desk during the Human's "bill paying" ritual, I will not hesitate to process it. Vigorously.
Image of Star Ribbon Forever First Class Postage Stamps Celebration Patriotic (100 Stamps) View Details

Liberty Bell Forever Stamps Booklet of 20

By: United States Postal Service

Pete's Expert Summary

My human has presented me with an artifact from the United States Postal Service, the bureaucratic entity responsible for the daily slot-rattling intrusion by my nemesis, the Mail Carrier. It is a flimsy paper booklet containing twenty small, perforated squares, each depicting a cracked bell. Apparently, these are "Forever Stamps," which means their value in the human's strange paper-based economy is eternal, a concept I find deeply uninteresting. From a play perspective, they possess a minor crinkle-factor and are lightweight enough for batting. However, they lack feathers, catnip, and any real substance. My initial assessment is that this is a low-effort offering, likely procured during a tedious human errand, and is a profound waste of my magnificent hunting prowess.

Key Features

  • New booklet of (20) forever stamps issued by USPS
  • Features liberty bell design
  • Comes either as folded convertible booklet or flat double-sided booklet pane
  • No longer available for sale at USPS - collectible item, still valid for postage
  • Forever stamps will always be valid for first class postage even if rates change

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The object landed on the mahogany desk with a soundless flutter, an insult to the very concept of a "toy." I observed from my velvet chaise lounge, tail twitching in irritation. It bore the scent of the Enemy—the faint, sterile paper-and-ink aroma of the Mail Carrier, the uniformed intruder who dared to approach my kingdom's threshold six days a week. This was not a gift. This was a communiqué, a piece of enemy propaganda left deep inside my territory. I had to investigate. With a fluid leap, I was on the desk, my paws silent on the polished wood. The booklet lay open, revealing a grid of tiny, identical squares. A code? A roster of agents? I nudged it with my nose. The human called them "stamps," a nonsense word. Using a single, surgically precise claw, I delicately hooked the edge of one square. My intent was to capture one of these enemy insignias for interrogation—perhaps by shredding it beneath the sofa. It peeled away with a faint, sticky sound. Treachery! The moment it came free, it attached itself to the pristine white fur of my paw. A trap! A tracking device! I shook my leg, a motion of pure, aristocratic disgust. The paper square, with its ridiculous bell, clung fast. I launched myself from the desk, a gray-and-white blur of panicked fury. I skidded across the hardwood, rubbing my paw against the Persian rug, but the sticky sigil of the USPS refused to yield. This tiny, adhesive pest was a greater foe than any laser dot or feather wand I had ever faced, a maddening, persistent parasite. My human, after a most undignified fit of laughter, finally intervened, peeling the stamp from my fur and pressing it onto an envelope. And then, I understood. This wasn't a weapon to be used against me. It was a mark of surrender. The humans affix these tokens to their own messages before feeding them to the Mail Carrier, sending their papers away into the unknown. The "toy" was a miserable failure, a sticky annoyance of the highest order. But the knowledge I gained... ah, the strategic insight into the enemy's paper-shuffling rituals was invaluable. The stamps are unworthy of play, but they have earned a brief, fleeting moment of my intellectual curiosity. Now, if you'll excuse me, this espionage has been exhausting. It is time for a nap.
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