A photo of Pete the cat

Pete's Toy Box: Madeline

YOTTOY Madeline Collection | Bonjour Madeline 10” Soft Doll (Yellow Dress)

Pete's Expert Summary

My human, in yet another transparent attempt to win my affection through commerce, has presented me with this... plush effigy of a small, jaundiced-looking human child. Based on its static nature and soft construction, it appears to be a wrestling and bunny-kicking dummy. Its primary features of interest are the tufts of red yarn posing as hair and the removable yellow frock, which I note possesses a tantalizing black ribbon. The yarn offers a decent potential for chewing and claw-snagging, and the ribbon is, of course, a classic temptation. However, the doll lacks any inherent motion, scent, or crinkle, meaning its entertainment value is entirely dependent on my own efforts. It could be a worthy adversary for a post-nap skirmish, or it could simply become another soft obstacle I must step over on my way to the food bowl. The jury is still out.

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The thing was deposited on my favorite rug with a disturbingly cheerful, "Here you go, Pete! It's Madeline!" I regarded it from my perch on the armchair, offering only a slow, deliberate blink. It was an affront of primary colors in an otherwise tastefully neutral environment. A small, soft humanoid with an unnerving, permanently stitched smile, dressed in a yellow that screamed for attention it had not yet earned. I sniffed the air. No catnip. No hint of dried fish. Not even the ghost of a feather. Pathetic. I pointedly turned my back to it and began meticulously grooming my pristine white chest fur, a clear signal that this 'Madeline' was beneath my notice. Hours later, under the cloak of a quiet afternoon, my curiosity finally outweighed my dignity. I slipped from the chair and approached the silent figure. A tentative paw-pat yielded a dull wobble. Disappointing. My eyes, however, noticed a loose thread on its hat—a crisp, black ribbon. Ah. A string. The universal language of play. I hooked a single, sharp claw into the ribbon and gave a gentle tug. The hat shifted. A flicker of hunter's instinct ignited within me. This was not merely a soft lump; it was a puzzle. A challenge. With a new sense of purpose, I pounced. My front paws pinned the doll's shoulders while my back legs unleashed a furious volley of bunny-kicks against its soft torso. The fabric was yielding, the stuffing satisfyingly dense. I sank my teeth into the ridiculous red yarn hair and dragged my vanquished foe across the hardwood floor, a triumphant parade of one. Its stitched smile now seemed less unnerving and more like a look of resigned defeat. Finally, I deposited the doll directly beside my empty food bowl—a clear and unmistakable message for the human staff. This 'Madeline,' while initially unimpressive, had proven its worth. It was an excellent sparring partner, its ribbons and yarn hair offering just enough interactive potential to be engaging. It was not a toy I had asked for, but it was a toy I would keep. For now, it would serve as my silent, yellow-clad court jester.
Image of YOTTOY Madeline Collection | Bonjour Madeline 10” Soft Doll (Yellow Dress) View on Amazon

YOTTOY Madeline Collection | Madeline Poseable Doll and Genevieve Soft Toy in Take-Along Box

Pete's Expert Summary

So, my Human presented me with this... *package*. Apparently, it contains a small, hard plastic effigy of a little human in a garish yellow hat, and a soft, bean-filled creature meant to resemble a dog. The plastic doll is, of course, an immediate write-off; its unblinking stare and hard limbs offer nothing for a sophisticated predator such as myself. The "Genevieve" dog plush, however, shows some minor potential. Its bean-filled nature might provide a satisfying weight for a proper bunny-kicking session. But let's be honest, the true prize here is the "Take-Along Box." While the Human sees a carrying case, I see a structurally sound, perfectly-sized fortress of solitude. The dolls are mere filler; the cardboard vessel is the only component that might be worth interrupting a nap for.

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The Human placed the garishly illustrated box on the floor with a triumphant flourish, as if presenting a freshly caught tuna. I observed from my perch on the armchair, tail twitching with mild irritation. "Look, Pete! It's Madeline!" she cooed, her voice full of that misguided enthusiasm she reserves for things that are utterly uninteresting. She opened the lid and produced the first occupant: a stiff, plastic homunculus with vacant eyes and bright red yarn for hair. I gave it a dismissive sniff. It smelled of a factory and disappointment. I began to groom my pristine white bib, signaling my profound lack of interest. Another failed attempt to please me. Just as I was preparing to stalk away to a more dignified sunbeam, she pulled out the second item. This one was different. It was a small, brown, lumpy thing. A soft toy. She dangled it, and I noticed it had a certain heft, a pleasing density. When she shook it, it made a faint, rustling sound. Beans. My ears, which had been flattened in annoyance, perked forward. My pupils, mere slits moments before, widened into black pools of hunter's focus. This was not the hard, static insult of the first doll. This... this had potential. The Human, sensing the shift in my demeanor, tossed the soft creature onto the Persian rug. I descended from the armchair with practiced grace, circling my new quarry. I extended a single, cautious paw and tapped it. It tumbled over, its bean-filled body offering a satisfyingly dull *thump*. This was a worthy texture. I pounced. I seized the "Genevieve" in my front paws, fell onto my side, and unleashed a torrent of furious, rapid-fire kicks from my powerful back legs. It was a glorious, simulated kill. The stitching held. The fabric was soft but resilient. I was, I must admit, moderately impressed. After a thorough session of subduing my foe, I released it and sat up, panting slightly. The plush toy was acceptable. A fine addition to my collection of vanquished prey. But as I licked a stray piece of my magnificent gray fur back into place, my eyes fell upon the true treasure. The box. Abandoned and empty. A perfect, high-walled enclosure. With a decisive leap, I landed inside, the cardboard groaning slightly under my perfect weight. I turned three times and settled into a loaf. The Human had, through sheer luck, succeeded. She thought the gift was the toys inside; I knew the truth. The plush was a decent appetizer, but the box was the main course.
Image of YOTTOY Madeline Collection | Madeline Poseable Doll and Genevieve Soft Toy in Take-Along Box View on Amazon

YOTTOY Madeline Collection | 23-Piece Kids Tin Tea Set Toy w/ Illustrations, Monograms, Carry Case

Pete's Expert Summary

Honestly, the human seems confused. This "YOTTOY Madeline Collection" is clearly not a toy for *me*. It's a set of 23 small, clatter-prone tin objects designed to be arranged and then immediately knocked over by a superior being, such as myself. While the quaint illustrations mean nothing to my refined sensibilities, the sheer number of lightweight pieces—plates, cups, a delightful little teapot with a lid perfect for batting under the sofa—presents a certain chaotic appeal. The most promising feature, however, is the carry case. A box is a box, after all, and this one appears to be an ideal size for a strategic nap. It might be a waste of time if the human insists on "playing" with it, but for unsupervised quality testing, it has potential.

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The human presented the garish red case with an absurd level of enthusiasm, as if it were a fresh tin of tuna. I, of course, remained unimpressed, giving a slow, deliberate blink before turning my attention to a far more interesting sunbeam on the rug. They chattered on, something about a "tea party," and clicked the latch open. A cascade of metallic *clinks* and *tinks* finally snagged my attention. My ears swiveled, and my tail gave a slight, inquisitive twitch. Inside lay a trove of small, shiny objects, decorated with little yellow-hatted figures. The human began arranging them on the floor, creating a miniature city of delightful, fragile-looking targets. My initial approach was one of pure scientific inquiry. I padded silently forward, my pristine white paws making no sound on the hardwood. The human was cooing at a tiny teapot. A rookie mistake. My first test subject was a small saucer. A gentle tap with a single claw-extended paw sent it skittering across the room, producing a most satisfying *ziiiiing* against the baseboard. My skepticism began to melt away. This was not a "tea set." This was a physics experiment of the highest order. Next, I turned my focus to one of the tiny cups. It was light, almost weightless. A more forceful bat sent it tumbling end over end before it rolled gracefully under the television stand, lost to them forever but a treasured victory for me. The teapot lid was the grand prize. A flick, a pounce, and a skillful slide maneuvered it directly beneath the heaviest armchair in the room. The human sighed, the sound of defeat. They could have their imaginary tea; I was engaged in tactical reorganization. Finally, with the tiny battlefield in disarray and a half-dozen tin casualties hidden in my favorite shadowy corners, I inspected the true prize: the now-empty carrying case. It smelled of victory and metal. I circled it once, twice, before stepping inside and curling into a perfect, smug circle. The metal was cool against my soft gray fur, the space a perfect fit for a cat of my distinguished stature. My verdict? The toy is an utter failure as a "tea set," but as a multi-part, interactive chaos-inducement system with a premium napping container, it is, I must admit, a resounding success. The human can buy me another one tomorrow.
Image of YOTTOY Madeline Collection | 23-Piece Kids Tin Tea Set Toy w/ Illustrations, Monograms, Carry Case View on Amazon

YOTTOY Madeline Doll 16 Inch Baby Doll from Madeline Books and 8.5" x 12" Madeline Paperback

Pete's Expert Summary

So, the human has brought home a silent, fabric interloper named Madeline. It's a 16-inch soft doll modeled after some storybook character, complete with an offensively cheerful yellow hat and a blue coat. The most promising features, from my expert point of view, are the temptingly stringy red yarn hair and the fact that its clothes are supposedly removable—a challenge I may or may not accept. It also comes with a book, which is essentially a high-quality coaster for the human's drink, freeing them up from bothering me. While it lacks any crinkle, scent, or electronic motion, its sheer size makes it a potential wrestling partner. It could be a worthy adversary or, more likely, just another oddly-shaped, glorified cushion to be ignored after an initial sniff.

A Tale from Pete the Cat

I was in the middle of a rather important nap in my favorite sunbeam when the familiar sound of tearing cardboard violated the peace. My ears swiveled, but I refused to grant the human the dignity of an open eye. Then, a new object was placed on the floor in my periphery. I cracked an eyelid. It was a small, silent human with an unnervingly fixed smile and hair the color of cheap string. It wore a little blue coat and a yellow hat that offended my minimalist sensibilities. I closed my eye again. Another transparent attempt to win my affection with trinkets. A few minutes passed. The human had, as predicted, become engrossed in the flat, crinkly object that accompanied the doll. The house was quiet again, save for the gentle rustle of turning pages. My curiosity, that wretched traitor, began to gnaw at me. I stretched, extending each claw deliberately, and sauntered over to the newcomer. I gave its black shoe a thorough sniff. Nothing. I moved up to the coat. It was soft, I’ll grant it that. Almost as soft as my own magnificent fur. My investigation led me to the head. The red yarn hair practically vibrated with an invitation. I lifted a paw and gave it a tentative *pat-pat-pat*. It swung listlessly. Pathetic. This lack of response was an insult. Was this thing mocking me with its passivity? I would not stand for it. I decided the hat had to go. I hooked a claw into the felt and gave a sharp tug. It tilted, but held fast. A worthy challenge, then. I repositioned, bracing my hind paws, and gave a more serious yank. The hat came loose, tumbling to the floor. A small victory, but a victory nonetheless. Emboldened, I launched myself at the doll's midsection, wrapping all four paws around it. It was the perfect size. I fell to my side, the doll clutched in my grasp, and unleashed a flurry of bunny-kicks against its soft torso. It offered no resistance, which was precisely what made it a perfect sparring partner. There was no risk of retaliation, only the satisfying thud of my powerful hind legs against its plush form. After a minute of vigorous battle, I had asserted my dominance. The doll lay motionless, its hat discarded, its coat slightly askew, its yarn hair a tangled mess. I sat up, panting slightly, and began to groom my tuxedo front with an air of nonchalant triumph. This "Madeline," I decided, would not be a plaything. It would be my personal wrestling dummy and, once I had thoroughly exhausted myself, a surprisingly comfortable pillow. It could stay.
Image of YOTTOY Madeline Doll 16 Inch Baby Doll from Madeline Books and 8.5" x 12" Madeline Paperback View on Amazon

Madeline Gift Set of Ludwig Bemelmans 6 Story Collection, Madeline and Pepito Paper Dolls, Activities with Stickers, and Gift Book Bag (Encourage Young Girls to be Fearless, Independent, Confident)

Pete's Expert Summary

My human, in her infinite and often misguided wisdom, has presented me with this "Madeline Gift Set." From what my superior senses can deduce, it's a pile of paper products designed for a small, un-furry human. It consists of several hard-cornered blocks I'm told are "books"—excellent for pushing off shelves at 3 a.m., but otherwise useless—and some sheets of flimsy paper dolls. These dolls, I must concede, look delightfully fragile and perfectly shaped for batting into oblivion under the sofa. The main event, however, is clearly the cloth "Gift Book Bag," which appears to be a prime-grade, portable napping chamber. The rest of the affair seems like a profound waste of my attention, which could be better spent monitoring the dust bunnies in the hallway.

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The human approached me with that look on her face—the one that says, "I have spent money on something you will utterly ignore." She placed a bright yellow bag on the floor. "For you to inspect, Pete!" she chirped. I regarded the offering with a slow, deliberate blink. It smelled of ink and processed trees, an aroma that offends my sophisticated palate. On the side of the bag, a line of identical little girls stared out, their uniformity deeply unsettling to my chaotic soul. I was prepared to deliver my verdict via a pointed turn and a flick of my tail. She upended the bag, and the contents spilled onto the Persian rug, desecrating my favorite sunning spot. Six dense, colorful blocks—*books*—landed with a dull thud. Pathetic. But then, a collection of thinner sheets and paper figures fluttered out. My eyes narrowed. Paper dolls. A whole fragile army of them, with one little fellow in a black hat who looked particularly smug. "That's Pepito, the bad hat," the human explained. A bad hat, you say? An invitation, if I ever heard one. I ignored the books and the pointless sheets of stickers and focused my hunter's gaze on the flimsy paper villain. With the fluid grace only I possess, I crept forward. My first tap was a gentle test, a soft *pat* that sent Pepito wobbling. He fell. Victory was sweet. Emboldened, I gave him a proper smack with my paw, sending him skittering across the hardwood floor. A most satisfying chase ensued. I pounced, I batted, I conquered. The little girls in their yellow hats soon followed, none of them a match for my predatory prowess. The human sighed, but I was merely quality-testing the playability, a service for which I am not adequately compensated in treats. After the paper massacre was complete, my work was done. Or so I thought. My eyes fell upon the discarded vessel, the yellow tote bag. It lay there, an empty, crinkly promise. I circled it once, testing its structural integrity, then stepped inside. It was perfect. A fortress of solitude. A portable den. I curled into a tight, gray-and-white ball, resting my chin on the fabric edge and fixing my human with a look that said, "The bag is acceptable. You may dispose of the paper clutter." She could have her stories; I had found the true prize.
Image of Madeline Gift Set of Ludwig Bemelmans 6 Story Collection, Madeline and Pepito Paper Dolls, Activities with Stickers, and Gift Book Bag (Encourage Young Girls to be Fearless, Independent, Confident) View on Amazon

New Madeline doll Plush 14" Tall Super soft

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.
Image of New Madeline doll Plush 14" Tall Super soft View on Amazon

Ruikajia Madeline Dress with Cape Madeline Birthday Party Madeline Costume Birthday Halloween Dress Cape 8 Years Gold

Pete's Expert Summary

My human, in a baffling lapse of judgment, has presented me with what appears to be a large, foldable sheet of gaudy gold fabric. They mutter something about a 'costume' for a 'Madeline,' which is clearly nonsensical as my name is Pete. From what I can gather, this 'toy' lacks any fundamental playability: there are no feathers to shred, no strings to chase (unless one can be pulled loose), and it possesses a distinct and offensive lack of catnip. Its only potential function, as far as my superior feline intellect can discern, is as a subpar napping surface, though the synthetic material looks rather staticky and would likely clash with my sophisticated gray-and-white coat. Honestly, it seems like an immense waste of the energy it would take me to walk over and sniff it.

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The familiar crinkle of a plastic Amazon bag stirred me from a perfectly good sunbeam nap. My ears swiveled, my tail gave a hopeful twitch. Perhaps it was a new bag of the salmon-flavored treats I so adore, or maybe a crinkle-ball infused with top-shelf valerian root. My human, however, pulled out a limp, shimmering gold... thing. It unfolded into a shapeless garment and a smaller, equally useless flap they called a "cape." I stared, my whiskers drooping in profound disappointment. This was not a toy. This was an error. Still, a certain professional obligation compels me to inspect all new items entering my domain. I padded over, my white paws making no sound on the floor, and gave the golden heap a cursory sniff. It smelled of plastic and disappointment. I nudged it with my nose. It offered no satisfying resistance. I gave a tentative pat with my paw, claws sheathed out of sheer apathy. The fabric simply shifted, a dull and uninspired movement. It was devoid of life, of challenge, of the very essence of "prey." It was, to be frank, an inanimate bore. Then, the ultimate indignity. The human picked up the "cape" and attempted to drape it over my back. The sheer effrontery! The slick, cheap material slid right off my gloriously soft fur, a testament to both my physical perfection and the item's uselessness. I fixed my human with a long, unblinking stare, channeling all my disdain into that single look. I then turned my back on the offensive golden cloth, leaped gracefully onto the arm of the sofa, and began to groom a perfectly clean shoulder with meticulous care. The verdict was clear: this was not an object of play. It was an insult to my intelligence and a blight upon my well-curated environment. The sunbeam was far more deserving of my attention.
Image of Ruikajia Madeline Dress with Cape Madeline Birthday Party Madeline Costume Birthday Halloween Dress Cape 8 Years Gold View on Amazon

Ruikajia Blue Madeline Inspired Dress Madeline Costume Madeline Dress Costume Birthday Dress 4 Years

Pete's Expert Summary

So, my human presented me with this... *thing*, clearly under the misguided impression that I would find it amusing. From what I can gather, it's a large, floppy piece of blue fabric with a silly white collar and a small red bow, accompanied by an equally absurd yellow hat-like object. It's apparently a "costume" for a small, noisy human. It lacks any of the essential qualities of a proper toy: no feathers, no crinkle sound, no erratic movement, and most damningly, no catnip. It seems designed solely to be draped over another being, an activity I find utterly undignified. While the fabric might be soft, its purpose is baffling and its playability is zero. It is, in short, a colossal waste of my time and a deep insult to my refined sensibilities, though I suppose it might make a decent napping mat if I were truly desperate.

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The human knelt, presenting the offering with an offensively cheerful expression. It was a large, limp sheet of a startlingly bright blue, unfurled onto the living room rug like a conquered flag. Accompanying it was a hard, yellow bowl that smelled of plastic and disappointment. I remained seated at a distance, observing this spectacle with a narrowed gaze, my tail giving a slow, judgmental thump against the floor. Was this a joke? I, Pete, a connoisseur of the finest laser dots and feather wands, was being presented with laundry. I flicked an ear in disdain and began meticulously grooming my white chest fur, a clear signal that this presentation was beneath my notice. Ignoring my obvious dismissal, the human wiggled the thing, causing the small red ribbon at its neck to flutter. A pathetic attempt to pique my interest. I sighed, the weary sigh of a genius burdened by the simpletons around him, and deigned to approach. A cursory sniff confirmed my suspicions: no mice, no birds, not even the faint, delicious aroma of tuna. It was just fabric. I gave the red ribbon a single, contemptuous pat with my paw, more to demonstrate the inadequacy of the gesture than out of any genuine curiosity. The object lay there, inert and pathetic. I turned my back on it and sauntered away to stare out the window, a far more stimulating activity. Later that afternoon, long after the human had abandoned their foolish endeavor, I passed through the living room again. The blue costume was still there, a crumpled heap of failure on the floor. The sun, however, had shifted, and a warm, inviting patch of light now fell directly upon it. I paused. I circled the object once, then twice, my soft paws silent on the hardwood. The fabric, I had to admit, did look rather plush. With a final, weary exhalation, I leaped gracefully onto the blue mass. I kneaded it with my front paws, a rhythmic motion of critical assessment. The material yielded nicely. It wasn't a feather boa, but it would do. I circled three times, a creature of regal habit, before collapsing into a perfectly curated ball of gray and white fur. My verdict was clear. As a toy, this "Madeline Dress" was an abject failure, an offense to the very concept of play. But as a sun-drenched, slightly-elevated napping platform? It was, for the moment, adequate. The human had failed to entertain me, but I, in my infinite resourcefulness, had once again triumphed.
Image of Ruikajia Blue Madeline Inspired Dress Madeline Costume Madeline Dress Costume Birthday Dress 4 Years View on Amazon

Slinky Sort Puzzle

Pete's Expert Summary

My human, in their infinite and often misguided wisdom, has presented me with what they call a "Slinky Sort Puzzle." From my superior vantage point, I see it for what it truly is: a three-tiered plastic vortex designed to exploit my baser instincts. It features several brightly colored orbs imprisoned within circular tracks. The premise, I deduce, is for me to bat these spheres around their plastic raceway. The potential appeal lies in the frantic clattering sound and the hypnotic spinning motion, which might briefly distract me between naps. However, its stationary nature and the frustrating inability to *actually* capture the "prey" suggests it may quickly become a monument to my human's wasted funds, occupying valuable sunbeam real estate.

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The new object appeared on my living room floor with an unceremonious thud. It was a tower of garish plastic, an affront to the otherwise tasteful decor I so graciously allow the biped to maintain. The human knelt, a hopeful, slightly foolish grin on their face, and gestured towards it. I, of course, responded with the only appropriate action: turning my back to it and beginning a meticulous grooming of my left shoulder. One must maintain standards. My soft gray fur and pristine white tuxedo do not just happen by accident. My display of magnificent indifference lasted a full seven minutes before the human, ever persistent, gave the top of the tower a gentle nudge. A flash of orange shot around the track with a satisfying *clack-clack-rattle*. Against my better judgment, an ear twitched. My tail gave a single, involuntary flick. The sound was… compelling. A primitive part of my brain, the part I usually keep suppressed beneath layers of sophisticated ennui, sat up and took notice. With a sigh that conveyed the immense burden of my curiosity, I rose and padded silently towards the contraption. I circled it once, my nose twitching. It smelled of industry and desperation. I extended a single, perfectly manicured paw, claws sheathed, and gave the garish green ball on the middle tier a tentative tap. It zipped around its track, a blur of motion. Faster this time. I tapped it again, harder. The whirring sound was hypnotic. I jabbed at the blue one on the bottom, then scrambled to bat the orange one on top. Soon, all three were a chaotic, rattling whirlwind of my own making. My dignity was a distant memory; my tuxedo was a blur of gray and white as I pounced and batted, utterly consumed by the challenge of keeping all three prisoners in motion. Panting slightly, I eventually backed away and sat, reassuming my regal posture. I straightened my white bib and gave a slow, deliberate blink towards the human, an acknowledgment of their passable offering. The plastic tower was a crude and simple thing, a far cry from the sublime thrill of a live shadow or a well-dangled feather wand. But the chaotic spinning of the trapped orbs provided a decent mental and physical exercise. It was, I conceded, not a complete waste of my time. It could stay. For now.
Image of Slinky Sort Puzzle View on Amazon