A photo of Pete the cat

Pete's Toy Box: Zapf Creation

Baby Born Learn to Walk Baby Doll Annabell - Blue Eyes: Realistic Features for Kids Ages 3+, Walks, Crawls, Sits & Kicks, Eyes Open & Close, Multiple Sound Effects

By: Baby Born

Pete's Expert Summary

My Human has brought home what appears to be a small, plastic effigy of their own kind, a product from a brand calling itself 'BABY born'—rather presumptuous, if you ask me. This 'Annabell' creature is designed to mimic the clumsy movements of a human infant. It allegedly crawls on its own, which, I must admit, piques my interest as a potential floor-level adversary, a slow-moving target for a stalking drill. It also kicks, makes a variety of irritating giggling and yawning sounds, and has unsettling eyes that open and close. While the incessant noise seems like a direct assault on my napping schedule, the independent crawling function might provide a brief, moderately stimulating diversion before I demand my evening meal. It's either a half-decent hunting simulator or an elaborate, noisy paperweight.

Key Features

  • GET READY FOR ENDLESS FUN: BABY born Learn to Walk Baby doll has 6 lifelike features: crawling, first steps, arm & leg movements, giggles, sleepy sounds, and open/close eyes. Available in 3 different skin tones and eye colors.
  • CRAWLS ON HER OWN: She crawls on her own, mimicking the real-life experience of a crawling baby. Simply set her in a crawling position, and she'll start moving across the floor, complete with adorable crawling sounds and motions.
  • HELP HER TAKE HER FIRST STEPS: She can take her first steps when you hold her hands, making it an interactive and delightful experience as you help her learn to walk.
  • MOVES AND KICKS WHEN SITTING UP: Watch her kick her arms and legs when she's sitting down. Simply tilt her backwards slightly and watch her kick her legs and move her arms whilst making the cutest baby sounds when you press her belly button.
  • LIFELIKE BABY SOUNDS: She giggles when her tummy button is pressed, makes yawning and sleeping sounds when rocked, and adorable baby sounds when she moves her arms and legs.
  • THE BRAND THAT PARENTS TRUST: For over 30 years, BABY born has been the legacy nurturing doll brand that parents trust. Our inclusive, realistic, and premium-quality dolls & accessories have been thoughtfully designed to encourage empathy and imaginative play.
  • FOR KIDS AGES 3 AND UP: Girls and boys ages 3 years old and up will love nurturing and caring for this lifelike baby.
  • WATCH ON YOUTUBE: Watch new episodes of the BABY born animated series on YouTube. Just search for "BABY born Official Channel".

A Tale from Pete the Cat

It arrived in a bright, loud box, and my Human extracted it with the sort of reverence usually reserved for my dinner. At first, it was just a lump of plastic, propped against a cushion. Inert. Its glassy blue eyes stared into the middle distance, seeing nothing. I watched from my throne atop the bookcase, tail twitching in mild contempt. It smelled of nothing, a void in the rich tapestry of household scents. A true nullity. My Human chattered at it, but the thing remained silent, a plastic idol for a bizarre, one-sided cult. I began to dismiss it, turning my attention to a promising sunbeam. Then, the blasphemy began. My Human placed it face-down on the rug. A switch was flipped. A soft, rhythmic grinding noise started, and the creature began to move. It lurched forward, a clumsy, clockwork crawl across the floor. This was a violation of the natural order. Inanimate objects are meant to stay where I knock them. I descended from my perch, silent as smoke, and circled the advancing homunculus. It made a series of cooing sounds that were clearly artificial, a cheap imitation of life. It had no heartbeat, no warmth, no scent of fear or excitement. It was a ghost in a shell, and its soulless advance was an insult to all true hunters. The Human, delighted by my interest, then sat the thing up. She pressed its navel, and a canned, tinny giggle erupted from its chest. Its limbs began to kick with spastic, pointless energy. I extended a single, perfect claw and tapped its kicking foot. There was no reaction, no yelp, no retreat. Just the continued, mindless motion. I felt no thrill of the chase, no satisfaction of the pounce. It was like batting at a pendulum. This wasn't prey; it was a zombie. A puzzle of levers and gears pretending to be something it could never be. My final verdict was delivered with a turn of my tail. This "Annabell" was not a toy for me. It was not a rival for affection. It was a profound statement on the Human's sad, simple nature. They needed to nurture something that required so much effort and offered so little in return. I, on the other hand, am a self-sufficient engine of purrs and perfection. I left the ghastly doll to its mechanical crawling and leaped onto my Human's lap, pointedly turning my back to it and demanding the chin scratches that were rightfully mine. The effigy could have the floor; I would always have the throne.

BABY Born Emma 43 cm

By: Baby Born

Pete's Expert Summary

My human has brought a strange new creature into my domain. From what I can gather, this "Baby Born Emma" is a practice human for the smaller, louder human to fuss over. It's a large, disconcertingly lifelike doll that mimics the most tedious functions of a real infant—crying, eating, and other unspeakable acts—all without the need for batteries, which is a mark of truly insidious engineering. Its "soft-touch" body might offer a novel texture for kneading, but its primary function seems to be staring blankly into space. The true value, if any, lies in its collection of small, plastic accessories, which seem perfectly sized for batting into the dark voids beneath the furniture. The doll itself is likely a waste of perfectly good sunbeam space.

Key Features

  • Toys

A Tale from Pete the Cat

It arrived in a large, promisingly corrugated box. The scent of fresh cardboard filled my refined nostrils, and I supervised the human's clumsy unboxing with great interest. But what she pulled from the tissue paper was not a new napping blanket or a feather-festooned wand. It was an imposter. A silent, plastic homunculus with glassy eyes that seemed to track my every move. The small human shrieked with delight, naming it "Emma." I, however, knew its true name: The Watcher. It was an effigy of everything I disdained—neediness without the decency to be fluffy and alive. For days, The Watcher was a silent, ominous presence. I'd find it lolling on my favorite armchair, its head cocked at an unnatural angle. It would be propped against my food dish, a silent judgment on my dining etiquette. The small human would jam a "magic dummy" into its face, and its eyelids would snap shut with a faint click, only to spring open again when the plug was removed. It was a grotesque pantomime of life, and I became convinced it was a spy sent to document my napping schedule and treat-cajoling techniques. It was studying me, learning my weaknesses, perhaps in preparation for a coup. The confrontation came in the deep of night. I was on my customary patrol of the shadowy hallways when I saw it, silhouetted by a sliver of moonlight, sitting upright in the middle of the rug. A clear territorial challenge. My tail twitched. I flattened myself to the floor, a sleek gray shadow against the dark wood, and crept forward. I circled it once, twice. It smelled of nothing but sterile plastic and the faint, sweet scent of the small human's hands. There was no life, no fear, no soul behind those vacant eyes. This was not an adversary. It was an object. My fear curdled into disdain, and then, into a flash of inspiration. I stood on my hind legs, placed my forepaws gently on its round head, and gave it a firm shove. It toppled backward with a hollow *thump*, its gaze still fixed on the ceiling. A wave of profound satisfaction washed over me. This thing wasn't a threat; it was a resource. Its tiny plate and spoon are now permanent residents of the lost kingdom under the stove. The doll itself has proven to be a surprisingly effective back-scratcher. It remains a silent, unnerving presence in my home, but it has learned its place. It watches, but I rule.

Baby Born My First Baby Annabell - Blue Eyes: Realistic Soft-Bodied Doll for Kids Ages 1 & Up, Eyes Open & Close, Doll with Bottle

By: Baby Born

Pete's Expert Summary

My human has brought home a "My First Baby Annabell," which appears to be a small, plush effigy of a human infant. It's a soft-bodied homunculus with disturbingly realistic eyes that open and close, clearly designed to mimic a living creature without possessing any of its more interesting qualities (like the ability to operate a can opener). It's dressed in a flimsy-looking jumper and comes with a plastic bottle, which I can only assume is a cruel joke unless it's meant to be filled with cream. While its soft body might offer a moderately acceptable napping surface in a pinch, its primary function seems to be distracting the actual small human. This could either lead to more uninterrupted sunbeam time for me or simply add another lifeless obstacle to the living room floor. The jury is still out.

Key Features

  • PERFECT FIRST BABY DOLL: BABY born My First Baby doll is a smaller 14 inch "beginner version" baby doll for young children. Available in 3 different skin tones and eye colors.
  • REALISTIC, SOFT-BODIED BABY DOLL: Adorable, soft-bodied baby doll with lifelike features. Available in 3 different skin tones and eye colors.
  • EYES OPEN & CLOSE: When baby is sitting up her eyes open, and when you lay her down for a nap her eyes will close.
  • SWEET PINK OUTFIT: She comes dressed in a removable jumper with an adorable lamb graphic on the front and a removable pink beanie.
  • SO MANY WAYS TO NURTURE: Nourish baby by pretend feeding her with the included bottle, then gently rock her to sleep or lay her down for a nap and her eyes will close.
  • HE BRAND THAT PARENTS TRUST: For over 30 years, BABY born has been the legacy nurturing doll brand that parents trust. Our inclusive, realistic, and premium-quality dolls & accessories have been thoughtfully designed to encourage empathy and imaginative play.
  • FOR KIDS AGES 1 AND UP: Girls and boys ages 1 years old and up will love nurturing and caring for this lifelike baby.
  • INCLUDES: Doll, outfit, hat and bottle
  • WATCH ON YOUTUBE: Watch new episodes of the BABY born animated series on YouTube. Just search for BABY born Official Channel."

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The thing arrived in a cardboard prison, its scent a sterile mix of plastic and fabric dye that offended my refined senses. My human cooed as she liberated it, a pale, soft-bodied creature with vacant blue eyes. She called it "Annabell." I watched from my perch on the armchair, tail twitching in silent judgment. It was a Trojan Horse, I was certain of it, sent to infiltrate my kingdom and study my napping patterns. It stared blankly from its seat on the rug, its soft jumper adorned with a picture of a lamb—a creature whose primary purpose, I understood, was to be rendered into a palatable gravy. This did not bode well. My investigation began under the cover of the human’s distraction. I crept closer, my gray tuxedo blending with the evening shadows. She had laid the creature down, and its eyes had snapped shut. A terrifying, unnatural parlor trick. Was it feigning death? I extended a single, cautious claw and poked its plush torso. It yielded with a soft squish, offering no resistance, no satisfying squeak, no frantic retreat. It was an imposter, a silent, soulless mimic. When the human returned and offered it a tiny, useless bottle, I knew it was no threat. It was merely pathetic. Days turned into a week, and Annabell became part of the landscape. She was propped on chairs, tucked into baskets, and left lying face down on the floor. She was a silent witness to my domain, her purpose a mystery. Then, one evening, a crime unfolded. A rogue moth, a fat, dusty blaggard, began flitting recklessly near the ceiling lamp—my lamp. I prepared to launch myself from the back of the sofa, a maneuver requiring precision and focus. But as I gathered my haunches, I saw Annabell, propped against a cushion below. Her unblinking, blue-eyed stare was fixed on a point just to the left of the lamp. It was perfect. She was my spotter. I used her glassy gaze as a targeting guide, a fixed point in the chaos of my impending hunt. I adjusted my trajectory, took a deep breath, and launched into the air. My paws met the wall, my claws found purchase, and the moth met its dusty end. I landed with a triumphant thud, a morsel of victory in my jaws. I glanced back at Annabell. She hadn't moved, her expression unchanged. She was no toy, no rival. She was a tool. A highly specialized, albeit unintentional, piece of tactical equipment. Her silent, unwavering gaze made her the perfect reconnaissance drone. She could stay. For now, she had proven her utility.

Baby Born Birthday Baby Doll Annabell - Blue Eyes: Realistic Features for Kids Ages 3 & Up, Color Change, Rooted Hair, Eyes Open & Close

By: Baby Born

Pete's Expert Summary

My human seems to have acquired a small, plastic effigy of one of her own kind, apparently for "nurturing play." This "Baby Born" doll is a birthday-themed imposter, clad in a gaudy pink dress that clashes terribly with my sophisticated gray fur. Its main gimmick involves a temperature-sensitive face that gets "messy" when touched with a cold plastic cake slice, a parlor trick I find unimpressive. I can create a far more authentic mess with a single hairball. The creature's "rooted hair" is an insult to my own glorious coat, and its accessories are merely new items to be lost under the furniture. The only feature of mild interest is its "sleepy eyes," which close when it's laid down. A toy that understands the fundamental importance of napping is a rare thing indeed, though I suspect this is its only redeeming quality in a sea of vapid, plastic pointlessness.

Key Features

  • IT'S TIME TO CELEBRATE: Birthdays are for everyone, even your baby doll! The Birthday Doll comes dressed for the party with a festive pink mesh dress with flocked dots and white shoes.
  • FEED HER CAKE FOR COLOR CHANGE SURPRISE: Baby’s face becomes "messy" when you feed her cake, just like a real baby would! To trigger the color change, simply place the cake slice in the freezer for at least 30 minutes. Once it's cold, press the cake slice to doll's lips and cheeks and watch as they change color.
  • WIPE FACE CLEAN: To "clean" up doll's face, dip the included napkin in warm water and wipe doll's mouth and cheeks to remove the color change.
  • SLEEPY EYES: After a long day celebrating, your little one can lay baby down and her eyes will close.
  • ROOTED HAIR: She has beautiful rooted hair styled in two top knots.
  • THE BRAND THAT PARENTS TRUST: For over 30 years, BABY born has been the legacy nurturing doll brand that parents trust. Our inclusive, realistic, and premium-quality dolls & accessories have been thoughtfully designed to encourage empathy and imaginative play.
  • FOR KIDS AGES 3 AND UP: Girls and boys ages 3 years old and up will love nurturing and caring for this lifelike baby.
  • INCLUDES: baby doll, party dress, undergarment, shoes, toy cake and cake slice, cloth napkin, party hat and cake stand
  • WATCH ON YOUTUBE: Watch new episodes of the BABY born animated series on YouTube. Just search for "BABY born Official Channel".

A Tale from Pete the Cat

It arrived in a box that smelled of cardboard and distant factories, an offense to my delicate senses. The human called it "Annabell." I called it The Watcher. It sat propped against a cushion, its unblinking blue eyes staring into a dimension I could not perceive. It was unnervingly still, a silent, plastic sentinel in a house that was supposed to be *my* domain. It did not move, it did not purr, it did not respond to my low, warning growl. It simply watched. The first incident occurred that afternoon. The human, humming a tuneless melody, took a small, wedge-shaped object from the cold food box and pressed it to The Watcher's face. To my astonishment, strange reddish blotches bloomed across its pale cheeks and lips, a silent, artificial malady. I dismissed it as typical human nonsense. But an hour later, as the human was carrying a glass of that dreadful red berry water, her foot caught on the rug. The glass tumbled, and a splash of crimson liquid stained the cream-colored fibers in a pattern eerily reminiscent of the marks on the doll's face. I froze, my tail rigid. It wasn't a toy. It was an oracle. My skepticism curdled into a kind of superstitious dread. I began observing The Watcher from the safety of the armchair's highest point. I saw the human wipe its face with a warm, wet cloth, and the crimson prophecy vanished. The slate was wiped clean, awaiting the next foretelling of doom. Later, as dusk settled, the human laid the oracle down in its box. With a faint, plastic click, its eyelids slid shut. A profound peace settled over the room. It was a sign. The Staring was over; the Great Napping could commence. It had predicted the nightly cessation of all annoying activity. I have no desire to bat at this thing. One does not play with fate. Annabell is not a toy to be trifled with, but a tool to be interpreted. Its open eyes signal a day of potential chaos and human clumsiness. Its colored face is a direct warning of a coming spill. And its closed eyes? That is the most sacred prophecy of all, a promise of silent, uninterrupted slumber. It is an unworthy object for my paws, but it has, against all odds, become an indispensable household barometer. I will continue to watch The Watcher, for it knows things.

Pacer Technology (Zap) Zap-A-Gap Adhesives, 2 oz

By: Zapf Creation

Pete's Expert Summary

Let me be clear, for my staff member seems to have confused a chemical manufacturer with a company that makes plastic dolls. This is not a toy. This is a small bottle of what I can only describe as concentrated evil, a pungent liquid labeled "Zap-A-Gap." From my astute observations, this is a potent adhesive meant for repairs. While the idea of directly interacting with such a foul-smelling, potentially fur-matting substance is repulsive, I concede its potential. If it can resurrect Sir Reginald Featherbottom, my favorite wand toy who met an untimely end during a particularly vigorous pounce, then it might be a worthy tool for my clumsy human to wield. Otherwise, it is a complete waste of my attention.

Key Features

  • Zap-A-Gap 2 oz
  • The Only Total Adhesive System for All your Needs
  • Multiple Sizes and Applications Available

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The tragedy was as swift as it was total. The porcelain mouse, a sleek, white effigy I enjoyed batting off the mantelpiece, had finally succumbed to gravity one too many times. It lay in three distinct, pathetic pieces on the hardwood floor. My world, for a moment, was gray. The staff member scooped up the remains with a sigh, and I assumed the mouse was destined for the great silver bin of no return, a fate that had befallen many a lesser amusement. I retired to my velvet cushion to mourn. Later, the human returned not with a replacement, but with the small, ominous bottle. The air was soon pierced by a sharp, acrid scent that made my nose twitch in disgust. I watched from a safe distance as they performed a delicate, if clumsy, surgery on the porcelain mouse. A single, clear drop was applied to the edge of a fragment. The human held the pieces together with a focused intensity I usually only see when the tuna can is being opened. I remained skeptical. No magic could put Humpty Dumpty back together again. Minutes passed in silent vigil. The chemical odor began to fade. The human released their grip, and the mouse… the mouse was whole. A faint, almost invisible seam was all that remained of its catastrophic injury. It was placed back on the mantelpiece, a stark white silhouette against the dark wood. I leaped up to investigate, my paws silent on the shelf. I circled the resurrected victim, sniffing cautiously. The offensive smell was gone, replaced by the familiar, cool scent of ceramic. I gave it a tentative pat with my paw. It wobbled but held firm. I batted it again, a little harder. Solid. The magic was real. This "Zap-A-Gap," this bottle of smelly necromancy, was not a plaything. It was something far more powerful. It was a restorer of worlds, a mender of cherished enemies. While I would never deign to touch the vile bottle itself, its power to preserve my kingdom of playthings had earned my profound, if grudging, respect. The porcelain mouse would be knocked to the floor again tomorrow, as is its purpose. And I now had faith it would rise again.

Zapf Creation Baby Born Little Flasche&Schnuller 2sort 36 cm

By: Zapf Creation

Pete's Expert Summary

My human, in a fit of what can only be described as profound misunderstanding, has presented me with accessories for a plastic infant. This "Flasche&Schnuller" set from Zapf Creation, a known purveyor of these silent, staring homunculi, consists of a tiny bottle and a pacifier. The intended "Ideal Functionality," I surmise, is for the make-believe nourishment of a doll, an activity of zero consequence to any creature of substance. While the smooth, hard plastic offers little in the way of satisfying texture for my discerning claws, I suppose the bottle, being lightweight, could be batted across the floor. The pacifier, with its handle, presents a marginal possibility for a good "hook and fling," but honestly, it all seems like a tragic misallocation of resources that could have been spent on tuna.

Key Features

  • Good value for money.
  • Reliable Performance:
  • Ideal Functionality

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The case landed on my rug on a Tuesday. The dame—my human—dropped the evidence with a cheerful, “Look what I found for you, Petey!” She was oblivious, a civilian caught in the crossfire. Before me lay two objects, gleaming under the lamp light like clues in a back-alley deal gone wrong. Exhibit A: a transparent vessel, a bottle meant for a patsy, small and empty of anything valuable. Exhibit B: a plug, a pacifier, clearly designed to keep a key witness silent. I knew the perp: the glassy-eyed doll that sat propped on the armchair, the one they called "Baby Born." A cold, silent type. I began my investigation, approaching the evidence with caution. A professional sniff confirmed my suspicions: cheap plastic, no scent of fish, fowl, or even passable gravy. A waste of my olfactory talents. I gave the bottle a tentative shove with one paw. It skittered away with a hollow, unsatisfying clatter. A dead end. This was amateur-hour stuff, beneath a detective of my caliber. I almost walked away, ready to file this under "Unsolved Annoyances" and resume my nap. But then, my eye caught the pacifier again. The ring. It was a handle, a weakness in its design. I hooked it with a single, extended claw. It didn't resist. I dragged it slowly, then flicked my wrist. It flew, tumbling end over end before landing with a soft *tink* on the hardwood floor. I did it again. *Flick. Tink.* A satisfying, repeatable offense. I could work with this. It was a perfect tool for interrogation, for getting a point across without saying a word. I stalked over to the armchair, the pacifier dangling from my claw like a pocket watch. I dropped it at the doll's plastic feet, then met its painted-on gaze with my own cold, green stare. It said nothing, of course. They never do. But it knew. I knew. The dame thought I was playing, but I was delivering a message: *I'm watching you. This neighborhood is mine.* The bottle was junk, but the pacifier? It's a keeper. A good detective always holds on to the evidence.

BABY born 835302 My First Swim Girl 30 cm Badepuppe, bewegliche Weapon Beine, schwimmt durchs Wasser, Wasserdicht und Ohne Batterien verwendbar

By: Baby Born

Pete's Expert Summary

My human has presented me with what appears to be a small, plastic effigy of their own species, apparently designed to flail about in water. It's a 'Baby Born' creation, one of those uncanny, glassy-eyed creatures with a form-fitting swimsuit printed directly onto its unnervingly smooth torso. The most promising aspect is its wind-up mechanism. There is no ghastly electronic buzzing, just a satisfying series of clicks that portend mechanical mayhem. While its intended use in the Great Wet Abyss is deeply offensive to my sensibilities and a flagrant misuse of good water, the spastic, battery-free thrashing it promises on dry land might just make it a worthy distraction between naps. It has potential, provided it stays far away from the dreaded faucet.

Key Features

  • ✔ SCHWIMMPUPPE FÜR KINDER: Die Badepuppe für Babys und Kleinkinder schwimmt Kraul oder Schmetterling. Beim Kraulen taucht sie einen Arm nach dem anderen ins Wasser. Beim Schmetterlings-Stil bewegt sie beide Synchronous weapon.
  • Dreht man die Arme der Aufziehpuppe nach hinten, bereitet man sie auf die nächste Bahn vor. Wenn die Weapon losgelassen werden, schwimmt die kleine Puppe durchs Wasser.
  • ✔ Der Rumpf der Puppe besteht aus wasserfestem Material. Alle Funktionen benötigen keine Drumien.
  • ✔ AUFGEDRUCKTES SCHWIMMOUTFIT: Der rosa Badeanzug und die Badekappe sind als Relief direkt auf dem Körper aufgedruckt und mit süßen Motiven verziert.
  • ✔ BADEPUPPE AB 1 JAHR: Die 30 cm große Puppe für Badewanne oder Pool ist Kleinkinder ab 12 Monaten geeignet.

A Tale from Pete the Cat

It lay abandoned on the living room rug, a silent golem with painted-on hair and a fixed, placid smile. I observed it from my post atop the velvet armchair, my tail giving a slow, judgmental thump. An intruder. The Staff had wound its arms backward, creating a series of sharp, mechanical clicks—a sound like a beetle cracking its shell, which piqued my interest. Then, they simply walked away, leaving the cursed thing lying there, primed and ready. The silence in the room grew heavy, charged with the potential energy stored in its plastic limbs. Suddenly, it began. Not in water, but here, on the sacred territory of my afternoon sunbeam. One arm lurched forward, then the other, dragging its stiff body across the Persian rug in a grotesque parody of a crawl. It wasn't swimming; it was an escapee from a nightmare, a tiny, relentless automaton marching to a silent, horrifying beat. My initial disdain curdled into a primal thrill. This was no mere toy. This was a challenge. This was a monster that needed vanquishing. I crouched, my gray tuxedo a blur against the upholstery, my muscles coiling like the springs in my newfound enemy. With a burst of speed I was upon it, a flurry of soft fur and deadly seriousness. I batted at a flailing arm, sending the creature skittering sideways. It righted itself and continued its inexorable, lurching crawl. This was a worthy adversary! It felt nothing, it feared nothing. I pounced again, this time pinning its torso with both front paws and delivering a series of rapid, educational bites to its unyielding plastic head. Its arms continued to churn uselessly against my chest until, with a final, weak shudder, the mechanism wound down. It was still. I stood over my vanquished foe, panting slightly, a victor surveying the field of battle. The silence returned, but this time it was a silence I had earned. The little pink horror was a formidable, if mindless, opponent. Its relentless, jerky movements provided a far more satisfying hunt than that dot of demonic red light ever could. I gave it one last, proprietary nudge with my nose before retreating to my armchair. It was a chillingly good time. I shall permit The Staff to reanimate it for a rematch. After my nap, of course. A king must rest.

Baby Born Surprise Series 8 Little Gems Mystery Pack

By: Baby Born

Pete's Expert Summary

My human has brought home another miniature, plastic version of their own species, this time shrouded in the manufactured excitement of a "mystery pack." From what I can gather, it's a small, inanimate hominid figure with articulated limbs and a little flower-themed garment. The primary appeal for the human seems to be the collectibility and the surprise of what's inside. For me, the articulation is mildly intriguing; a limb that can be batted into an unnatural angle has some potential for dramatic flair when staging a "hunt." However, it is ultimately a lifeless, hard plastic object. Unless its "flower dress" is made of some exceptionally snag-worthy material, this seems like a profound waste of the energy I was saving for my afternoon sunbeam nap.

Key Features

  • Each Baby comes with a unique flower dress
  • The Babies come in a variety of skin tones, eye colors, facial expressions and cute head sculpts
  • Poseable & articulated (shoulder, hip, neck)
  • Age grade: 3+
  • WATCH ON YOUTUBE: Watch new episodes of the BABY born animated series on YouTube. Just search for "BABY born Official Channel".

A Tale from Pete the Cat

It wasn't prey. It had no scent of mouse or bird, no frantic, life-affirming struggle. It simply lay on the rug where the human had discarded it after a brief, squealing ritual of unwrapping. It was a small, silent effigy with oversized, unblinking eyes and a synthetic, floral smock. Its limbs were bent at an awkward angle, a testament to its one redeeming quality: poseability. The human had called it a "Little Gem," and as I stared into its painted, vacant eyes, I began to understand. This was no mere toy. This was an oracle. I approached with the reverence such a totem deserved. I did not bat it. Instead, I used my nose to gently nudge it, testing its divine weight. I rearranged its stiff arm, pointing it toward the window where the annoying blue jay often perched. A warning. I then adjusted its head to face the kitchen, a clear plea for a treaty of tuna. For days, I treated it not as a plaything, but as a silent, plastic conduit to the universe's intentions, bringing it offerings: a particularly crunchy beetle wing, a lost button from the human’s coat, the very best catnip leaf from my secret stash. It remained stoic, its painted smile offering no answers. The breakthrough came during a thunderstorm. The human, busy making comforting noises and wrapping themselves in blankets, had left the Little Gem near the heating vent. As the wind howled outside, a puff of warm air from the vent, a force unseen and unfelt by the larger creatures of this house, stirred its tiny flower dress. It rustled. A whisper, meant only for me. The oracle had spoken, its message carried on the warm currents. It told a tale of a future where the red dot would appear without warning, and the good treats, the salmon-flavored ones, would be dispensed before dinnertime. The human, of course, ruined the sanctity of the moment. They saw me keeping my vigil and scooped up the Gem, chattering about what a "silly kitty" I was for guarding a doll. They placed it on a high shelf, among other dust-gathering monuments. My oracle was silenced. But later that evening, as if guided by an unseen hand, the human grabbed the laser pointer. And after the hunt was won, a salmon-flavored treat was indeed placed before me. The Little Gem is no toy to be trifled with. It is a powerful prophet, and I, its sole interpreter, have deemed it worthy. Now, if only I could figure out how to get it down from that shelf.

Pacer Technology (Zap) Zap CA Adhesives, 1/2 oz

By: Zapf Creation

Pete's Expert Summary

Ah, you've brought me a tiny bottle. Let's see... "Zap CA Adhesives." Based on my extensive observations of your clumsy repair attempts, this is not a toy, you simple primate. It is a bonding agent, a chemical for fusing broken objects back together. Its listed "features" are merely its shipping dimensions, which are about as thrilling as a closed cupboard door. While it has zero playability and likely smells atrocious, I concede its potential utility. It could, in theory, be used to repair one of my superior toys that your oafish bipedalism has inevitably shattered. So, while a complete failure as a source of entertainment, it might serve as a tool for redemption. Do try not to glue your fingers to my food bowl.

Key Features

  • Multiple Sizes and Applications Available
  • Package Dimensions: 11.43 H x 1.27 L x 3.81 W (centimetres)
  • Package Weight: 0.018 kilograms
  • Country of Origin : United States

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The crime scene was devastating. My beloved "Crimson Dart," a magnificent wand toy tipped with the finest dyed-red chicken feathers, lay in two pieces on the floor. A moment of your careless stomping, a tragic snap, and my afternoon's hunt was cancelled. I stared at the carnage, then at you, my eyes narrowed to accusatory slits. You had the decency to look ashamed. You then presented this minuscule bottle, this vial of "Zap," as if it were some sort of peace offering. I was unimpressed. You expect me to be entertained by a liquid? I gave a low, dismissive growl and began meticulously cleaning a paw, signaling your utter irrelevance to me in that moment. You ignored my pointed grooming and set to work. From my observation post on the arm of the sofa, I watched your clumsy fingers apply a single, glistening drop of the clear fluid to the fractured plastic wand. The smell was sharp and unpleasant, an offense to my sophisticated nostrils, and I wrinkled my nose in disgust. You pressed the two pieces together with a grunt of concentration, holding them steady for what I counted as eight tail-swishes. There was no fanfare, no dramatic flash of light. It was a silent, mundane, and highly suspect procedure. You waited another minute, poking the repaired joint gingerly before giving the wand a tentative wave. The feather tip, my glorious Crimson Dart, danced through the air as if its spine had never been severed. It held. You wiggled it more vigorously, and still, the union was seamless. My interest, despite my best efforts to remain aloof, was piqued. This was a form of dark magic I had not previously witnessed. The destruction had been un-done. You cast the line towards me. The red feathers fluttered just within reach. My instincts, overriding my cynical intellect, took over. I launched myself from the sofa, a gray and white blur of righteous fury, and snagged the Dart from the air. I wrestled it to the ground, bunny-kicking with all my might, fully expecting the weak point to fail. It did not. The bond was stronger than the original plastic. I paused, the toy pinned beneath my paws, and looked at the little bottle on the coffee table. It was not a toy, no. It was something far more important: a vial of resurrection. The "Zap" had earned my grudging respect. It is a worthy addition to the household, a necessary artifact for a world full of your blunders.