Pete's Expert Summary
My human, in their infinite and often misguided wisdom, has presented me with these items from a manufacturer named "BeapTcely," which sounds less like a brand and more like the sound one makes when trying to dislodge a hairball. The product appears to be a set of four brightly colored foam rectangles. Their primary purpose, I gather, is to be sullied in that great, chlorinated water bowl in the backyard, allowing a human to bob about like a piece of witless flotsam. While the promise of "soft foam" might momentarily pique my interest for a potential napping surface, its designated proximity to water renders it utterly contemptible. Its one saving grace might be its secondary function as a "seat cushion" by the pool, but I suspect its synthetic texture would be an insult to my luxurious gray fur.
Key Features
- What You Will Receive: the package comes with 4 pieces of Water saddle float, available in blue, yellow, green and orange color, 1 pieces per color, bright and eye catching, easy for you to find, and you can choose one color that suits your personality and taste
- Stable and Lasting: made of quality XPE material, the soft foam pool seat has higher density and buoyancy, soft and flexible, hard to break or teal, reliable to serve you for a long period
- Proper Size: the water solid saddle floats is measured about 31.5 x 15.7 x 1.3 inch, appropriate size for swimmers; And smaller kids can hold the handles for more comfortable swimming in the water
- Enjoy Your Swimming Fun: the foam swimming pool saddle is slim in the middle part, just put your legs through the slim part of the water saddle and relax with your friends or family at the pool or lake
- Durable Pool Seats: the foam floating seat for pool is suitable for all sizes of adults and children weighing up to 220 pounds, applicable for pool or lake. They can also be used as seat cushions by the pool when not in use in water
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The box arrived, as they always do, with a thud of profound insignificance. My human, however, handled it with the sort of reverence usually reserved for a fresh tin of tuna, which immediately put me on high alert. From within, they pulled four impossibly flat, garishly colored objects. They laid them out on the lawn like offerings to some forgotten, tasteless god: a violent blue, an acidic green, a feverish yellow, and an offensively cheerful orange. I watched from my throne on the velvet armchair, my tail giving a slow, judgmental thump-thump-thump against the cushion. They were too uniform to be organic, too bright to be anything of quality. They were a mystery, an enigma of poor taste. My mind, a far superior instrument to the one my human possesses, began to churn. These were not toys. They were not beds. I concluded they must be geographical survey markers for an alien invasion. Each color represented a different quadrant of the yard designated for a specific, horrifying purpose. The blue marker, placed perilously close to the pool, obviously designated the future site of a hydration-based interrogation facility. The green one, on the grass, marked the landing zone for the invaders' vile, chlorophyll-sucking vegetation. The yellow and orange were clearly for the command tents, one for strategic planning and the other, I assumed, for morale-boosting activities, which are always offensively loud. With the gravity of the situation weighing upon me, I watched as my human, the unwitting collaborator, picked up the blue marker and carried it toward the water. This was it. The signal. I braced myself for the sky to crack open, for the mothership to descend. But then, the human did something even more baffling than summoning extraterrestrial conquerors. They straddled the foam rectangle and flopped into the water with it. There was no invasion. There was no signal. They just... floated. They paddled their feet with the intellectual vigor of a sea cucumber, a blissful, empty look on their face. The truth crashed down upon me with the force of a dropped encyclopedia. These weren't alien artifacts. They were flotation devices. Their sole purpose was to enable a fully grown biped to drift aimlessly in a body of water it could easily stand up in. The sheer pointlessness of it all was staggering. My elaborate, intelligent theory dissolved into a puddle of mundane reality. Disgusted by this spectacular display of inanity, I turned my back on the whole pathetic scene. The alien invasion would have been far more interesting.
