Pete's Expert Summary
My human presented this... object. Apparently, it is a small, infantile human replica masquerading as a flightless bird, a "Tilly the Turkey" from some sort of Cabbage Patch dynasty. Its main purpose seems to be to sit there, reeking of an aggressively artificial baby powder scent that offends my highly-developed olfactory senses. While its supposed collectability and thumb-sucking prowess are entirely lost on me, I must concede a few points. The nine-inch, plush-covered form factor appears to be an ideal size for a vigorous wrestling match, and the "snuggly onesie" might offer a satisfying texture for my claws. It is likely a waste of a perfectly good sunbeam, but if I am in the right mood for pugilism, it might just serve a purpose.
Key Features
- Complete your collection of Cabbage Patch Cuties by adopting Tilly the Turkey baby doll!
- So cute, you'll want to gobble her up! Each Cabbage Patch Cutie features a snuggly onesie with adjustable hood, and can really suck its thumb!
- Cutie baby dolls come with the traditional signature baby powder scent that Cabbage Patch Kid fans know and love!
- Take the Oath of Adoption! Cabbage Patch Kid Cuties are numbered for collectability and make a great toy gift for boys and girls who love Cabbage Patch Kids! Perfect for Christmas stocking stuffers, Birthdays and more!
- Officially licensed Cabbage Patch Kids merchandise. Each Measures approximately 9" tall. Comes in sealed polybag packaging with official Cabbage Patch tag.
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The thing arrived in a crinkly prison, a clear bag that crackled with promise. The sound alone was a solid 7 out of 10. My human, with their usual lack of ceremony, tore it open and placed the creature on the rug before me. My interest immediately plummeted. A wave of scent, a chemical cloud of sweet powder, washed over me. It was an abomination. I prefer the honest aroma of dried salmon, my own meticulously groomed fur, or even the subtle earthiness of the forbidden potted fern. This was an insult, a cheap perfume trying to mask the doll's inherent lack of a soul. I circled it warily, my tuxedo-furred chest puffed out. The human called it "Tilly." A ridiculous name. It was a pale, round-faced effigy in a lumpy brown suit meant to evoke a turkey, complete with a silly fabric tail. I've seen real turkeys through the window; they are majestic, nervous birds with a fascinatingly jerky gait. This was a silent, powdery lump. I gave its plastic head a tentative pat with my paw. It wobbled, its painted-on eyes staring into the void. Utterly unimpressive. I was about to retreat to my velvet cushion for a protest nap when the human left the room, leaving me alone with the intruder. Boredom, as it often does, became the mother of violence. I crept closer. Perhaps its plush exterior held some merit. I pounced. My initial attack was flawless, a full-body grapple that brought the turkey-baby down. The nine-inch size was, I begrudgingly admitted, perfect. I could wrap all four of my legs around its torso and unleash a furious barrage of bunny-kicks with my hind paws, a technique I had perfected on lesser stuffed animals. The soft body absorbed the punishment beautifully, offering just the right amount of resistance. My final verdict came when I focused my attention on its head. The flimsy, "adjustable" hood was a clear design flaw from a security standpoint, but a major feature for a predator like myself. I gnawed and pulled at the edge until, with a final triumphant tug, I yanked the entire hood down over its face, effectively blinding my powdery foe. There. Vanquished. The cloying scent is a significant demerit, and I will never 'adopt' this thing as the packaging suggests. However, as a sparring partner and a symbol of my absolute dominion over all things plush, it will do. It has earned its place on the floor, at least until the next nap calls to me.
