Pete's Expert Summary
My Human seems to have acquired a small, silent effigy for the lesser, smaller human in the house. It's called "Brooks," and it's apparently from a "Kindness Club," which sounds like a dreadfully optimistic organization. This doll is meant to teach empathy, a concept I find most useful when deployed to acquire extra tuna. It has long, potentially swattable hair with a garish pink streak, and its "poseable" body suggests it could be easily toppled from a great height. While the sheer volume of fabric in its outfit—a jumper, a jacket, socks—is an affront to minimalist taste, the striped headband does show some promise as a potential trophy. For the most part, however, it seems destined to be another stationary object that gathers dust and stares blankly into space, a complete waste of perfectly good shelf real estate.
Key Features
- Meet the Kindness Club, girls with big hearts and big dreams to make the world a better place, teaching caring and respect for all people
- Dressed in a heart print jumper, striped tee, satin/sequin jacket, striped headband, and knee socks with pink boots; hair is long, blonde and parted with soft waves and a fun pink highlight; engage your child in imaginative play with this doll, teaching kindness and empathy
- These 14” dolls have molded, poseable bodies, beautiful rooted hair with a colorful highlight, realistic fixed eyes, and engaging outfits
- Engage your child in imaginative play with this doll, teaching kindness and empathy. Doll wipes clean with damp cloth
- Features light skin, blue eyes; and blonde hair with pink highlight; recommended for ages 3 and up
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The thing arrived in a transparent prison, and the Small Human released it with a shriek of delight. "Brooks!" she called it. I watched from my perch on the armchair, tail twitching in silent critique. This "Brooks" was a plastic homunculus with vacant blue eyes and a disturbingly cheerful expression. It was plopped onto the living room rug, a new, unblinking idol in our domestic temple. The Humans cooed about its mission of "kindness," a laughable notion. I am the sole practitioner of true kindness in this house, which I demonstrate by graciously allowing them to stroke my magnificent gray fur. This doll, with its sequined jacket and frankly absurd pink-streaked hair, was clearly an imposter. For two days, I treated it as a piece of particularly ugly furniture. It sat. It stared. The Small Human would arrange its limbs into "poses" and carry on one-sided conversations with it. I observed its main weakness: gravity. It was top-heavy, and its ridiculously large pink boots offered a poor center of balance. A plan began to form in the quiet, calculating corners of my mind. This wasn't about play; this was about establishing the natural order. There is only room for one pampered, judgmental creature with impeccable style in this household, and its name is Pete. My opportunity came during a late-night patrol of the perimeter. Brooks had been left sitting on the edge of the coffee table, a silent sentinel guarding a half-empty mug. I leaped silently onto the table, the very picture of stealth and grace. I circled the doll, sniffing its synthetic hair. It smelled of nothing, the scent of a soulless automaton. I gave its striped headband a soft, exploratory tap with my paw. It wiggled. Excellent. With a second, more deliberate nudge aimed squarely at its forehead, Brooks tumbled backward, executing a perfect, silent arc before landing in the toy basket with a soft clatter. Victory. The next morning, the Small Human found the doll nestled amongst the blocks and stuffed bears. "Oh, Pete!" she said, looking at me. "Were you putting Brooks to bed?" She picked me up, burying her face in my tuxedoed chest and praising my "kindness." I accepted the adoration with a slow blink. They were so easy to fool. Let them believe it was an act of benevolence. I knew the truth. It was a message, a reminder of the hierarchy. Brooks was now just another one of my subjects, and I, its silent, furry overlord, had already claimed its striped headband as tribute. It now resides under the sofa, a spoil of a war they never even knew was being fought.
