Pete's Expert Summary
My human seems to believe my opinion is required on this... object. It is a plastic effigy of their species, clearly intended for the smaller, louder human. This "Barbie" character is clad in a rather ostentatious purple garment. I will concede, the tiny, scratchy sequins on its torso and the silvery, dangly bits around its neck and on its feet have a certain allure. They might be worthy of a tentative pat, should the opportunity arise to knock it from a great height. However, its primary function seems to be standing there stiffly, an activity I have already perfected and see no need to outsource. I suspect its playability, for a creature of my refined sensibilities, will be fleeting—a momentary distraction before a more important nap.
Key Features
- Designed to reflect the world kids see today, this diverse line of Barbie Fashionistas dolls showcases bright and trendy styles that inspire endless storytelling possibilities
- Barbie doll wears her brown hair down in soft waves Her look features fun details that make her personality pop, like a silvery necklace and matching strappy heels
- She is headed to a glitzy and glam event in her purple bubble dress The strapless bodice shines with a sequined print, while her satiny skirt adds plenty of fun flounce
- With such a versatile and stylish look, this Barbie doll is ready for any adventure that kids dream up
- Kids 3 years and up can collect other Barbie Fashionistas dolls for even more fun with friends and fashion at playtime
A Tale from Pete the Cat
It appeared without warning, a silent sentinel posted on the Little Human’s dresser. I observed it from the doorway, my tail giving a slow, contemplative twitch. The humans called it a doll, a toy. I knew better. This was an observer, a new node in the household surveillance network. Its disguise was clever, I’ll grant it that. The garish purple uniform was designed to be dismissed as festive, but the shimmering sequins on its torso were clearly some kind of multi-faceted optical sensor array. The silvery necklace? A micro-transmitter, no doubt, relaying my every move back to the central command—the beings who control the can opener. I decided a direct approach was necessary. Under the pretense of a casual stroll, I leaped onto the dresser, my paws making no sound on the polished wood. I circled the operative. It was unnervingly still, its painted-on eyes staring into a future I could not see. I leaned in, sniffing its plastic form. A faint, sterile smell. No soul, just purpose. The satiny flounce of its skirt rustled as my whiskers brushed against it, a sound only I could detect. It did not react. This was a professional. My mission was clear: I had to test its capabilities. I had to know if it was a passive monitor or an active agent. Retreating to the floor, I crouched low, my gray tuxedo blending into the evening shadows. My target was the top of the wardrobe, a perilous leap I reserved for moments of extreme athletic expression. I gathered all my power, every muscle tensed for a silent, perfect launch. This was not for show; this was for information. I soared through the air in a graceful arc. I landed atop the wardrobe with the silence of falling dust. I turned, peering down at my new adversary. The operative, #234, had not moved. It had not flinched. Its head hadn't even tracked my movement. A lesser cat might have concluded it was just a mindless piece of plastic. But I, Pete, understood. It hadn't reacted because it was so perfectly disciplined. It saw everything, recorded everything, and betrayed nothing. It was a worthy, silent opponent in my kingdom of soft surfaces and sunbeams. The game, as they say, was afoot. I gave a slow, respectful blink, accepting its challenge. This house was not big enough for two such masters of observation.
