Pete's Expert Summary
My human has procured a 'Scotland Yard Board Game' from a brand called 'Funskool.' From what I can gather, it's a flat, colorful square upon which the bipeds simulate a chase, a pathetic attempt to replicate my own elegant and deadly pursuits of dust bunnies. One of them gets to be a mysterious 'Mr. X,' a role for which I am clearly overqualified. While the board itself presents a premium, centrally-located napping surface, and the various small playing pieces and paper 'tickets' show promise for being batted under the heaviest furniture, the overall activity seems designed to distract the humans from their primary purpose: adoring me. A potentially useful collection of small, losable objects, but a frivolous use of their time.
Key Features
- A breathtaking game of dodging, racing, cornering and chasing
- One of the players takes on the role of Mr X
- Job is to move from point to point around the map of London taking taxis, buses or subways
- Set includes a playing board, log book, playing pieces, cards and travel tickets
- Great family game
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The humans unfurled the map of 'London' with an air of theatrical gravity. From my observation post on the arm of the sofa, I watched with detached amusement. They spoke in hushed tones of 'Mr. X,' a phantom moving through the city, his location known only periodically. They, the 'detectives,' would try to corner him. An exercise in futility, I thought, as I watched them clumsily move their little plastic pawns. They wouldn't recognize a true master of stealth if he were currently shedding on their favorite throw pillow. The game commenced. The humans leaned in, furrowing their brows and consulting their little log book. It was all very serious. My moment came when the female human declared a 'snack truce' and retreated to the food-preparation-zone. The male human was momentarily distracted by a glowing rectangle in his hand. The board lay undefended. This was not a game; it was an invitation. I am the shadow in the corner of the eye, the silence between floorboard creaks. I am the *real* Mr. X. I descended from my perch, a river of silent gray fur. My target was not a location on the board, but the very concept of their game. My paw, a tool of surgical precision, shot out and hooked one of the little paper 'travel tickets.' Not with a clumsy swipe, but a deliberate, calculated hook of a single claw. I claimed a 'Taxi' ticket and, carrying it delicately in my mouth, vanished into the 'underground'—the dark, dusty labyrinth beneath the entertainment center. I deposited the ticket there, a clue for a game they didn't even know they were playing. When the humans returned, the game resumed, but a subtle chaos had been introduced. "I'm sure I had one more taxi ticket," the male human muttered, his confidence fractured. They searched. They recounted. They accused each other of misplacing it. I watched from the shadows, a faint, smug purr vibrating in my chest. They could play their little game on the board, but the true chase, the real mystery of the missing ticket, was happening all around them. They were merely pawns in my far more sophisticated entertainment. This 'Funskool' set, I decided, was not a waste. It was a wonderful new medium for my art.
