Pete's Expert Summary
My human has presented me with what they call a "doll," but which I recognize as a miniature, overdressed sentinel designed for staring. This particular one is part of a series celebrating something called Día De Muertos, and it is a riot of colors and patterns that, while mildly interesting to the eye, offer no textural satisfaction for a discerning claw. It is clearly not for swatting, pouncing, or even casual chewing; its purpose is to stand rigidly on a shelf, gathering dust and my human's admiring glances. The accessories are far too small and likely glued on, rendering them useless. Ultimately, it seems destined for a high perch, making its primary contribution to my world the gorgeously illustrated—and far more practical—box it arrived in.
Key Features
- Barbie continues its Día De Muertos series in 2024 with a lovingly designed doll. Her festive fashion is infused with references to the traditions, symbols, and rituals of this time-honored holiday.
- Barbie doll’s satiny black dress is accented by a sky-blue ruffled bodice and rose-pink ribbon belt. Vibrant “embroidery” of bones, flowers, and sugar skulls bloom across the top and skirt.
- Her headpiece is made of gathered fabric and mimics the shape of marigold petals. Its rich orange hue beautifully complements the shimmering lilac color in her traditional calavera face paint.
- Sugar skull corazón earrings, a chunky candy-colored necklace, and a pink flower ring add an extra dash of sweetness to her holiday look.
- The 2024 Barbie Día De Muertos doll comes in gorgeously illustrated packaging that is perfect for display and gifting. May she bring joy to your household as you celebrate the memories of loved ones!
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The Unboxing was, as usual, a ceremony of tedious reverence. The Human carefully slid the plastic figure from its cardboard throne, cooing over its painted face and embroidered dress. I observed from the arm of the sofa, flicking an ear in mild disdain. Another statue. This one smelled of factory plastic and faint, artificial sweetness. It was placed on the mantelpiece, a silent, colorful guardian standing between a stack of books and a framed picture of some ancestor I’d never had the pleasure of tripping. I yawned, stretched my gray tuxedo-clad form, and decided a nap was a far better use of the afternoon light. I awoke hours later to a house steeped in quiet and shadow. The moon cast long, silvery fingers through the window, illuminating the dust motes I so enjoyed chasing. During my nightly patrol of the perimeter, I leaped silently onto the mantel. There she stood, the doll, her calavera face paint strangely luminous in the gloom. I sniffed at her. The plastic smell was still there, but underneath it, something else. A scent that wasn't part of the manufacturing. It was faint, like sun-warmed marigolds and something rich and earthy, like the old wool blanket in the attic. I peered closer, my green eyes adjusting to the low light. The intricate patterns on her dress seemed to shift, the embroidered bones and flowers swirling with a life of their own. I wasn’t looking at printed fabric anymore. I was looking into a story. I saw a flicker of a memory—a woman with kind hands setting out plates of food, a man with a booming laugh, the scent of baking bread. It wasn't my memory, but it felt as real and warm as the heating vent I sleep on. The doll wasn't just an object; it was a focal point, a tiny anchor holding onto echoes of the past. My cynicism softened. This was not a toy to be destroyed. It was a vessel of a different sort of play, one for the heart and the mind of the biped who looked after me. It was a keeper of quiet things. I gave the doll’s stiff, satiny skirt a single, gentle pat with my soft paw—a gesture of understanding. Then, with a slow blink of approval, I hopped down, leaving the little guardian to her silent, important work. She had earned her place on the mantel.
