Pete's Expert Summary
So, my human has acquired another static, un-pounceable effigy from this 'Breyer' outfit. This one is a rather large, plastic equine they call 'Beowulf,' painted a garish metallic red and scrawled with some sort of werewolf nonsense. Its primary function, as far as I can tell, is to occupy a perfectly good spot on a high shelf, accumulating dust. However, I am told its white markings glow after the lights go out. This *might* elevate it from 'monument to immobility' to 'faintly interesting nocturnal landmark,' but I remain skeptical. It has no feathers, no catnip pouch, and I suspect it tastes disappointingly of plastic. A potential waste of my superior visual acuity.
Key Features
- Limited Edition: 2024 Halloween Horse - Beowulf | A glossy Glow in the Dark Halloween limited edition, he featured “Beowulf” on his belly.
- When a haunting whinny turns into a chilling howl, you know that the full moon is high and Beowulf is on the prowl. With his metallic deep red coat, he blends into the shadows of the night as he searches for the magical force that has awakened his wolf spirit.
- The werewolf-inspired Halloween Horse is posed as if he's calling to the sky, or perhaps, to the beautifully eerie wolves on both of his sides! Claw marks and hints of the full moon complete his transformative look. When the light of the moon is hidden behind the clouds Beowulf will stand out, as all of his white markings glow in the dark!
- Product Specifications: 11.25in. L x 4.5in W x 10.5in. H
- Traditional | 1:9 scale | Ages 8+
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The new idol arrived in a box that was far more interesting than its contents. I gave the cardboard a thorough inspection and a few good test-scratches before the human shooed me away to reveal the thing itself. It was a horse, frozen mid-howl, with an angry red glaze and silly wolf drawings on its flanks. An offense to good taste. The human cooed over it, muttering something about a "limited edition," and placed it on the highest shelf of the study bookcase, a perch even I would find challenging. I watched, unimpressed, from my velvet cushion. Another piece of human clutter, destined to be ignored. I flicked an ear in its general direction and settled in for a proper nap. Hours later, the house fell into its nightly hush. The moon, my true master, was hidden by clouds, plunging the study into a deep, familiar dark. I stretched, my claws extending and retracting in a satisfying rhythm, and began my patrol. As I padded across the rug, a strange light caught my eye. It was a soft, ghostly green luminescence, emanating from the high shelf. I froze, my tail giving a single, questioning twitch. It was the statue. The tacky white markings—the silly claws and moon shapes—were now shining with an eerie, self-contained light. My skepticism warred with a primal curiosity I rarely admit to. This was new. This was… anomalous. The leap from the floor to the desk was effortless. The jump from the desk to the second shelf required a bit more calculation. From there, I crept along a row of dusty hardcovers until I was face-to-face with the glowing beast. It smelled of cold plastic and a faint, chemical tang. I reached out a paw, claws sheathed, and gave its glowing leg a soft pat. Nothing. It was as still and lifeless as it had been in the daylight, yet it held this strange, silent fire. It wasn't prey, nor was it a threat. It was simply… there. A beacon in my domain. I sat there for a long time, a gray tuxedo-clad gargoyle observing a glowing, plastic one. It wasn't a toy. It would never satisfy the thrill of the chase or the joy of destruction. But it wasn't useless. As I prepared to leap down, I realized it cast just enough light to perfectly illuminate the corner of the human's armchair, my preferred landing spot. This 'Beowulf' was not a plaything, but a tool. A private lighthouse for my midnight expeditions. The human could have their collectible; I had claimed its soul for a far more practical purpose. With a slow blink of acceptance, I made my perfectly-lit descent. It would do.
