Pete's Expert Summary
My human has procured a "Lazy Bunz Foam Water Saddle," a name that is both an insult and an aspiration. From my extensive research conducted between naps, I deduce this is a large, flat, blue plank of foam designed for the absurd human ritual of bobbing about in that giant, chemically-treated water bowl they call a pool. The vinyl coating suggests a certain resilience, which could be intriguing for a brief claw-sharpening session, and its "Lazy" descriptor resonates with my core values. However, its primary function involves the Wet Menace, making it fundamentally flawed. Its only hope for redemption is if it remains beached on the patio, where its foam construction might offer a passably comfortable, if somewhat plebeian, napping surface in a sunbeam.
Key Features
- Foam Floating Saddle: Vacation essential to get comfy straddling or sitting on this pool lounger pad while enjoying the summer in the swimming pool, beach, lake, or river
- Comfortable Material: Foam water mat constructed from high-quality, closed-cell foam with a seat-like design to ensure adults and kids keep comfortably upright on the chair float without the need to tread water
- Enhanced Flotation Device: Pool float lounge chair coated in vinyl to protect from damage from the sun, chlorine, or saltwater for long-lasting use of pool toys
- Easy to Carry: Pool float with handles built on both sides allows for effortless transportation to and from the water with no inflation needed
- Easy Clean: Floating foam pads easily cleaned with soap and water and lays flat for convenient storage during the off-season; Dimensions (L x W x H): 36 x 18 x 1.25 inches; Made in the USA
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The campaign began at noon. My human, the one I refer to as The Feeder, emerged onto the patio carrying a slab of alarming "Bahama Blue" under one arm. It was an affront to the natural tones of the terracotta tiles and the dignified green of the potted ferns. He laid it down—not just anywhere, but directly in the Prime Meridian of Sun, the one patch of golden warmth I had spent the entire morning tracking. An act of war. I observed this new enemy, this "Cerulean Anomaly," from the safety of the sliding glass door, my tail twitching like a metronome of indignation. It did nothing. It simply lay there, insolently absorbing the very solar radiation that was mine by divine right. For an hour, a silent standoff ensued. I surveyed its features from afar. It had handles, like some grotesque luggage for a journey I wanted no part of. The surface had a slight sheen, a vinyl skin that smelled faintly of the factory it was born in and the pool it was destined for. The Feeder called it "Lazy Bunz," a clear mockery of my own sophisticated lifestyle of strategic repose. This could not stand. My territory, my sun, my very philosophy of leisure was being challenged by a piece of glorified packing material. My advance was a study in stealth. I moved low to the ground, a gray-and-white shadow against the stone, making no sound. I reached the edge of the blue expanse and extended a single, cautious paw. The surface was warm—surprisingly, invitingly warm. It had captured the sun's energy and held it captive. A slow, deep purr, the engine of my tactical mind, began to rumble in my chest. This was not an enemy combatant; it was a resource to be seized. With a fluid leap, I mounted the platform. The foam yielded ever so slightly beneath my weight, a perfect combination of support and comfort. I settled in the center, a monarch claiming his new throne. I stretched luxuriously, my claws extending for a brief, satisfying test against the vinyl. It held. Excellent. The Feeder chuckled from the doorway, misinterpreting my conquest as a charming quirk. Let him. He did not understand the geopolitical implications of what had just transpired. This Blue Slab, this tool of his bizarre aquatic hobby, had been officially annexed. It was no longer a pool float; it was my Royal Solar-Charging Dais, a worthy and strategically valuable addition to my domain.
