Pete's Expert Summary
My human, in a fit of what I can only assume is a profound misunderstanding of both entertainment and acoustics, has acquired a small, plastic rectangle from a brand called "ZANY TRAINS." This device is, ostensibly, a "toy," though its primary function seems to be disrupting the tranquil atmosphere of my domain with sixteen different, ear-splittingly shrill noises related to some primitive human transportation method. While its compact size might suggest it's prime for batting off the edge of the coffee table, the cacophony it promises to unleash makes it less of a plaything and more of a threat to my nap schedule. I suspect its only redeeming quality will be the speed with which the included batteries die.
Key Features
- 16 UNIQUE TRAIN THEMED SOUNDS - Sounds include Train Whistles, Horns, Conductor Phrases and Engine Noises - It's like having a railroad in your pocket!
- TRAIN THEMED SOUND MACHINE - It's like an entire train layout in your pocket! All your favorite train sounds in one tiny sound machine!
- THE PERFECT GIFT FOR TRAIN LOVERS, COLLECTORS, AND ENTHUSIASTS - Great gift for any adult train fan, railroad worker, or collector. Perfect for Father's Day, Birthday, or Christmas.
- PERFECT FOR TRAIN THEMED BIRTHDAY PARTIES - Makes a great train themed party favor or gift.
- BATTERIES INCLUDED - The Train Themed Portable Electronic Sound Board Includes 3x LR44 / AG13 Batteries
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The object arrived on a Tuesday, which is typically reserved for sunbeam rotation and deep contemplation of the dust bunnies under the sofa. My human presented it with the sort of misguided glee usually reserved for a fresh can of tuna. It was a flat, blue piece of plastic bearing the offensively cheerful name "ZANY TRAINS." The name alone was an insult. I have standards. Zany is for squirrels and ill-behaved puppies. I am a connoisseur of quiet dignity. Without warning, a deafening *CHOO-CHOO!* erupted from the device. My ears flattened, my tail puffed to twice its normal size, and I executed a tactical retreat to the relative safety of the armchair. The human, a creature of simple pleasures, cackled and pressed another button. A gruff voice yelled, "ALL ABOARD!" followed by the clanking of metal and the hiss of steam. It was an auditory assault, a symphony of industrial horror. This wasn't a toy; it was an alarm system designed to signal the end of days. After the human grew bored (a blessedly short process) and left the noise-box on the rug, my curiosity wrestled with my self-preservation. This was not the alluring rustle of a feather wand or the satisfying thud of a felt mouse. This was an anomaly. I crept forward, sniffing the plastic. It smelled of nothing, a sterile void. I nudged it with my nose. Inert. Gathering my courage, I gently pressed one of the illustrated buttons with my paw. *CLANG-CLANG-CLANG!* A bell. I jumped back. I tried another. The low, rhythmic *chugga-chugga* of an engine. This was different. It wasn't a sharp shock like the whistle; it was a pattern. I spent the next hour methodically cataloging the sounds. The sharp horn was a warning. The conductor's voice was a command. The rhythmic chugging was a form of movement. It wasn't prey. It wasn't a predator. It was a machine, and its noises were a language of sorts. A crude, repetitive, and deeply annoying language, but a language nonetheless. I will not deign to *play* with this vulgar contraption. It is, however, a fascinatingly stupid artifact. I will not chase it, but I will occasionally activate it to remind the human of their folly, and to keep my mind sharp by decoding its pointless, mechanical chatter. It is a tool for intellectual exercise, not for fun. A crucial distinction.
