Pete's Expert Summary
It appears the Human has acquired a small, bean-filled amphibian effigy from a company called Aurora, which I suppose implies a certain baseline of construction quality. They call him "Fernando." At a mere 8 inches, he is of a size suitable for batting under the sofa or carrying to a secluded spot for a thorough "interrogation." His main selling points seem to be his "cloud-like softness" (a bold claim I will verify against my own superior coat) and his posture of perpetual surrender, lying flat on his belly. This lack of structural integrity could make for excellent bunny-kick practice, but it could also mean he's just an inert lump. The presence of bean pellets within is the most promising feature, offering a satisfying heft that might just elevate him above a simple, green dust collector.
Key Features
- This plush is approx. 4" x 5.5" x 5" in size
- Made from deluxe materials for a cloud-like softness!
- This light and fluffy Frog plush makes for a great cuddling partner
- Mini Flopsies are designed to lay resting on its belly for easy, fun play
- To ensure stability and quality, this plush contains bean pellets suitable for all ages
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The offering was placed on my favorite sunning rug, an act of such audacious territorial infringement that I was forced to pause my mid-afternoon grooming session. It was a frog. Not a real, twitching, delightfully panicked frog, but a fabric one, an insolent green paperweight. It lay there, belly-down, with an air of profound indifference that I found personally insulting. The Human called it "Fernando." I called it "The Suspect." My first duty was to circle the perimeter, tail twitching like a metronome of judgment. It did not flinch. It did not squeak. It simply absorbed the light, its soft-looking material a stark contrast to its stoic silence. My interrogation began with a single, extended claw. I reached out and gently hooked the fabric on its back. The texture was, I admit, surprisingly plush—a worthy, if inferior, rival to my own tuxedoed splendor. I gave a slight tug. Instead of resisting, The Suspect slid toward me with a soft, gravelly rustle. Ah, the bean pellets. A classic counter-interrogation technique: dead weight. It refused to engage, to give me the thrill of a fight. This wasn't prey; this was a guru of non-violence. My cynicism deepened. Was this its game? To bore me into submission? Very well. I would escalate. A swift pat with a retracted paw sent it tumbling end over end, its floppy limbs flailing in a mockery of struggle. It landed with the same gentle, bean-filled *thump*. I pounced, pinning it beneath my front paws, bringing my face close to its stitched-on smile. I stared into its vacant, black eyes, searching for a flicker of fear, a hint of a soul. Nothing. There was only the quiet dignity of a well-made plush. It wouldn’t cry out, it wouldn’t flee. It would simply endure my full arsenal of pounces, kicks, and dramatic tumbles. And in its unwavering silence, I found my verdict. This "Fernando" was not a toy to be conquered in a flurry of glorious violence. He was something else entirely. A confidant. A silent accomplice. I released my grip, nudged him once with my nose, and then, with a proprietary air, carefully grasped him by his head and trotted off. I deposited him in my sleeping basket, a green warden of my domain. He had passed the test not by fighting back, but by proving he was worthy of absorbing my most dramatic moods without complaint. He would do.
