Pete's Expert Summary
My Human has presented me with this... object. It appears to be a plush effigy of a small, oddly-dressed human child, some character they call "Madeline." The primary selling points from my perspective are its purported "super soft" texture, which is promising for extensive biscuit-making, and its substantial 14-inch height, making it a worthy opponent for a proper pounce-and-wrestle session. It lacks the dynamic thrill of a feather wand or the intoxicating allure of catnip, so its potential is entirely dependent on my willingness to animate it with my own magnificent energy. Its static nature and yarn hair suggest it might serve better as a supplemental pillow, but I will reserve final judgment until after my initial, and undoubtedly rigorous, inspection.
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The thing arrived in a crackly, transparent prison, which the Human tore open with her clumsy paws. She placed it on my favorite rug, a silent offering to her furry overlord. I observed it from the safety of the armchair, my tail giving a slow, contemptuous flick. It was a humanoid figure, staring into the middle distance with vacant, stitched-on eyes. Its coat was an offensively bright blue, and its head was topped with a ghastly yellow hat. It smelled of the factory and the road, a sterile scent that offended my delicate senses. I feigned a deep disinterest, closing my eyes as if to nap, though every fiber of my being was on high alert. After the Human retreated to her glowing rectangle, silence descended. The doll remained. Motionless. Insultingly so. I slunk down from the chair, belly low to the ground, and began a slow, circling patrol. A thorough sniff of its little black shoes confirmed they were not, in fact, tasty beetles. I nudged the soft blue coat with my nose; the material was plush, I'll grant it that. My patrol brought me face-to-face with it. The yarn hair, a garish red, was the most interesting feature. I extended a single, perfect claw and snagged a strand. It had a decent, springy resistance. This was the turning point. A single, tentative bat was met with a soft, yielding wobble. Emboldened, I delivered a more forceful thwack to its yellow-hatted head. It toppled over with a satisfyingly silent thud. Victory! I pounced, wrapping my front paws around its torso and sinking my teeth into the inoffensive yarn hair. It was a good wrestle. The doll was soft enough to absorb my powerful bunny-kicks without any unpleasant hardness, and large enough to feel like a worthy conquest. Exhausted from the thrill of battle, I stood over my vanquished foe. It lay there, just as soft and silent as before. I nudged it once more, then began to knead its soft body, a low, rumbling purr vibrating in my chest. It wasn't a frantic, chirping bird, nor a skittering bug. But as a pillow upon which to rest my victorious head, it was… acceptable. Yes, this Madeline doll could stay. She had proven herself a worthy addition to my kingdom of comfort.
