Pete's Expert Summary
My Human has acquired what they call a "helmet," a ludicrously hard, bowl-shaped object. Its stated purpose is to protect their clumsy skull during their bizarre wheeled escapades, a goal I find both ambitious and deeply uninteresting. I, however, see its true potential. The interior, lined with what they describe as "plush moisture-wicking Sweatsaver fabric" and "thick dual-density soft foam," sounds suspiciously like a description for a luxury, concave napping vessel. The fact that it comes with *two* sets of pads to "customize fit" suggests I can personally tailor my new bed to the precise contours of my magnificent form. Its ultimate worth, therefore, has nothing to do with protecting the Human and everything to do with whether it remains on a shelf for my use or on their head, where it is a complete waste of premium materials.
Key Features
- Reliable Protection and Comfort: High impact-absorbing EPS foam, thick dual-density soft foam, and plush moisture-wicking Sweatsaver fabric
- Custom Fit, Every Time: Includes two different size sets of Sweatsaver pads to customize fit; pads fit very snug when they are brand new, but after a couple of hours of wear, the helmet will break in and start to feel just right
- Fine Tune Your Fit: To determine the proper size, measure around head with a soft tape measure or string; liners should be used to further customize fit
- Versatile Sizing Options: Available in four sizes: XS/S fits 20 – 21.25 in (51 – 54 cm), S/M fits 21 – 22.5 in (53 – 57 cm), L/XL fits 22.5 – 23.5 in (57 – 60 cm), XL/XXL fits 23.5 – 24.5 in (60 – 63 cm)
- Top Notch Safety: Triple-certified to meet U.S. CPSC Safety Standard for Bicycle Helmets for Persons Age 5 and Older, ASTM F1447 for Recreational Bicycling or Roller Skating, and ASTM F1492 for Skateboarding and Trick Roller Skating
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The Human left the black dome on the living room floor, an inert and alien thing. They had fussed over it for an hour, swapping out the soft gray pads inside, murmuring about "breaking it in." I observed from my post on the armchair, my tail twitching with disdain. A new toy for the clumsy giant. How droll. My initial inspection yielded little: a hard, slick shell my claws couldn't satisfyingly score and some dangly straps that offered only momentary distraction. As I turned away in boredom, a flash of brown fur changed everything. The field mouse, the very one that had been taunting me from beneath the skirting board all morning, made a critical error. It saw the helmet's dark, inviting maw and darted inside, seeking refuge. Suddenly, the game was afoot. I pounced, my paws striking the helmet with a dull thud. It skidded uselessly across the hardwood. I peered into the darkness, my eyes adjusting to see the mouse nestled deep within the "high impact-absorbing EPS foam," squeaking in what sounded like mockery. The helmet wasn't just a shelter; it was a fortress. The "Triple-certified" safety standards the Human had read aloud from the box were now my direct nemesis. I tried to flip it, but its low center of gravity resisted. I tried to hook a claw into the air vents, but they were too narrow. The mouse was untouchable, protected by layers of foam and polymer designed to withstand a force far greater than my righteous fury. This would not stand. Frustration is an emotion for dogs and humans. I am a strategist. I retreated to the edge of the sunbeam, assuming an air of utter indifference. I began to groom a paw, feigning a loss of interest. The mouse, emboldened by its impenetrable castle, crept to the edge of the liner, its whiskers twitching. The fool. It believed it had won. I, however, had noticed the helmet's single, glaring design flaw: the long, nylon adjustment strap that lay coiled beside it. With a flick of my wrist too quick for the Human eye to track, I hooked the strap. I gave it a slow, deliberate pull, making the buckle skitter against the floor. The mouse froze. I twitched the strap again, mimicking the tail of a lizard. Curiosity, the great undoing of lesser minds, took hold. The mouse crept out from behind the "dual-density" padding, its gaze fixed on the dancing strap. It took one step onto the open floor. And that was all I required. The helmet lay forgotten, its protective qualities rendered moot by superior intellect. A formidable, if flawed, opponent. I will permit it to stay. After all, a victory nap feels so much sweeter when taken inside the conquered citadel of one’s foe.
