Pete's Expert Summary
My human has presented me with what appears to be a miniature, plastic effigy of one of their own kind, a disturbing practice I've noted before. From a brand called Götz, which sounds suspiciously serious, this "Aquini Boy" is a waterproof creature with disturbingly functional eyes that stare blankly into the void. Apparently, its purpose is to teach their small, loud offspring about bodily functions, a subject I have already mastered with far more grace and efficiency in my private litter box. While the doll itself is a rigid, unappealing lump of vinyl, its tiny accessories—particularly the pacifier and that rather fetching camo hat—show some promise as items to be strategically batted under the heaviest furniture. Ultimately, it is a profound waste of resources that could have been spent on a quality, ethically sourced feather wand.
Key Features
- Gotz Aquini Boy doll is anatomically-correct, with jointed all vinyl body and 100% waterproof. He has sleeping brown eyes that open and close and is suitable for ages 18 months and up.
- Set also includes potty, easy-to-fill bottle, a towel, and pacifier. Aquini Boy doll can sit on potty without support. Great as a potty training aid, or as a gift for an older sibling adjusting to a new baby brother in the house.
- Doll wears long sleeved shirt with printed buttons, denim jeans and a knit hat in camo design. Set includes bottle, pacifier and potty.
- Aquini Boy is the perfect doll to teaches important baby bathing, feeding, and potty skills to engage a child's nurturing instincts.
- All materials used are tested to meet or exceed US and European safety standards. No harmful colors or softeners contained.
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The operation began at dusk, the golden hour when sunbeams are most distracting to the Warden. She placed the target on the living room floor, a smooth, plastic asset they called "Aquini Boy." He was the new agent in my territory, and I, Pete, chief of internal security, had to assess the threat. He came with his own gear: a curiously shaped white chair, a bottle, a pacifier, and a towel. His cover was deep; he wore a camo hat, as if mocking my own stealth capabilities, and jeans that were offensively stiff. He stared forward with glassy brown eyes, silent, unblinking. A professional. My initial approach was a low, silent crawl, using the topography of the coffee table leg for cover. I observed his stillness, his unwavering posture. The Warden cooed at him, demonstrating how he could "drink" and sit on his little white throne. A disgusting display, but it provided valuable intel: he was waterproof and jointed. This meant he was durable, but also that he could be dispatched in the water bowl if he proved hostile. I performed a standard sniff test. He smelled of nothing. No fear, no life, just the sterile scent of a factory. He was a hollow man, a vinyl ghost. The time for surveillance was over; direct action was required. I broke cover with a swift, exploratory tap of the paw against his head. *Clack.* His eyes snapped shut, then open again. A cheap parlor trick, designed to intimidate, but I was not so easily fooled. I escalated, nudging him with my nose. He toppled with a soft thud, his limbs akimbo. Pathetic. He offered no resistance, no sport. He was a decoy, a distraction from the real prize. As the Warden repositioned the fallen agent, I saw my opportunity. My mission had changed. The target was not the doll, but his equipment. With surgical precision, I hooked a single claw into the tiny plastic pacifier. It was light, perfectly shaped for skittering across the hardwood floor. I secured my prize and vanished into the shadows beneath the credenza. The doll could stay. Let the Warden fuss over the silent, plastic simpleton. His presence was a smokescreen, allowing me, the true master of the house, to acquire new assets for my own, more important games. He was not a threat; he was an opportunity. Case closed.
