Pete's Expert Summary
My human seems to have acquired a box of small, hard plastic bits that are apparently meant to entertain one of its own kind. It's a LEGO kit, which means my staff will be occupied for a significant period, clicking these things together to create a crude effigy of a spider, a scorpion, or a snake—creatures I would find far more interesting in their natural, squirming state. The supposed appeal is that these plastic beasts have "posable" limbs, which is a laughable substitute for the genuine panicked scuttling I prefer. While the finished product will be a hard, scentless disappointment, the process itself holds some promise. The scattering of 153 tiny, bat-able pieces across the floor and the inclusion of a "neon-yellow web" which sounds suspiciously like a string, are the only features worthy of a cat of my caliber.
Key Features
- 3 ANIMALS IN 1 BOX – The LEGO Creator Wild Animals: Surprising Spider toy lets kids ages 7 years old and up build and rebuild 3 different animal figures with the same bricks
- ENDLESS PLAY OPTIONS – Kids can role-play stories with 3 different animal models (models cannot be built simultaneously): a spider figure, a scorpion toy or a toy snake
- POSABLE ANIMAL FIGURINES – All 3 colorful models have posable features, including legs and bodies, so kids can enjoy imaginative play as they place toy figures into different stances
- ANIMAL TOY FIGURES – Animal figures can be displayed after playtime and kids can pull out a neon-yellow web from the spider toy’s back to hang it from a LEGO brick
- GIFT FOR KIDS – This 3 in 1 toy provides an immersive build-and-play experience for little builders and can be given as a birthday, holiday, or anytime gift
- LEGO CREATOR TOYS – Every 3 in 1 set (sold separately) lets kids build 3 different models inspired by some of their biggest passions, including animals, vehicles and houses
- DIMENSIONS – This 153-piece LEGO rebuildable toy set features a spider figure measuring over 2 in. (5 cm) high, 4 in. (11 cm) long and 6 in. (15 cm) wide
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The performance began on the living room rug, a space I generally reserve for dramatic, full-body stretches. My human, the bumbling stage director, tore open the box, spilling the cast of 153 colorful plastic actors onto the floor with a clatter. I observed from my velvet throne on the arm of the sofa, my tail giving a slow, critical flick. The director consulted the script—a flimsy booklet of diagrams—and began the tedious work of auditions, snapping piece after piece into place. It was a slow, clumsy production, filled with muttered curses as a "chorus line" of spindly black legs was assembled. Hours seemed to pass. The sunbeam I had been monitoring shifted across the floor, and still the director toiled. Finally, the star of the show was complete: a garish, multi-eyed spider. It was held aloft for my approval. I yawned. It was rigid, soulless. All sharp angles and lifeless plastic. It possessed none of the frantic, chaotic energy of a real arachnid. The director placed it on the coffee table, a premiere on a polished wooden stage. I descended from my perch for a closer inspection, the discerning critic preparing his review. I circled the plastic monstrosity. It smelled of nothing but the factory it came from. I extended a single, perfect claw and gave one of its posable legs a sharp *tap*. It skittered a few inches, a pathetic imitation of life. A failure of an actor. I was about to turn away in disgust, ready to give this entire production a scathing one-paw review, when the director revealed the show’s one special effect. From the spider’s back, a thin, neon-yellow cord was pulled. It dangled, swaying gently in the air currents from the vent. A string. Suddenly, the production had merit. The lead actor was a bore, a complete stiff, but its primary prop was a masterpiece of wiggling, dangling perfection. My eyes, which had been narrowed in judgment, widened with predatory delight. The spider was a failure, a waste of plastic that would only serve to gather dust. The string, however... the string was a star. I would wait until the director was asleep, and then that string and I would have our own, far more engaging, after-hours show.
