Pete's Expert Summary
So, the human has presented me with this… thing. It’s a Furblet, apparently, a miniature version of those larger, unsettling Furby creatures I’ve seen in their moving pictures. This one, named "Ty-Bee," is a loud, orange morsel that fancies itself a "bestie." It claims to have over 45 sounds and tunes in a language called "Furbish," which, I admit, is more intriguing than the usual simplistic squeaker. It has several buttons for activation—a beak, a heart, a head—and ears that pop open. This "peekaboo" feature shows a flicker of promise for a satisfying *thwap*. Its primary function seems to be to make noise and be carried around on a keychain, an indignity I am glad to be spared. It’s a potential source of auditory irritation, but the moving parts might just save it from being immediately kicked under the sofa.
Key Features
- MEET THIS WILD LITTLE BESTIE: It's not just any electronic pet or plush toy - it's a mini Furby toy that sings and goes anywhere with their bestie! Great small gifts for kids
- 45+ SOUNDS & TUNES: Ty-Bee plays fun music and says different phrases in the unique Furbish language (Furblets toys don't know human languages)
- 3 WAYS TO ACTIVATE MUSIC & PHRASES: Press the beak for fun feeding noises and tap the heart gem for music. The top of the head activates fun Furbish phrases and powers it on and off
- HARMONIZE WITH OTHER FURBLETS (SOLD SEPARATELY): Furblets come with different colors and music style personalities. Collect more than one and make them sing together
- 2 KEYCHAIN CLIPS FOR ON THE GO: These 2 inch/5 centimeter travel toys for girls and boys come with a removable keychain clip
- PEEKABOO EARS POP OPEN: Fold one or both ears down and press the head to make them pop back up. A76/LR44 button cell batteries included
- WORKS WITH FURBY, TOO (SOLD SEPARATELY): If you have the larger Furby interactive toy, activate Furdar mode to see what Furby has to say about their little friends
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The new offering was presented on the living room rug, a garish orange blot against the tasteful beige. The human chirped, "Look, Pete! It's a Furblet! His name is Ty-Bee!" I regarded it from my perch on the armchair, unimpressed. It was a fuzzy sphere with enormous plastic eyes that stared into the abyss, holding no secrets and even less intelligence. It looked like a tiger that had a very, very unfortunate run-in with a trash compactor. I gave a slow, deliberate blink, the highest form of dismissal I could offer without physically leaving the room. Predictably, the human could not take a hint. They poked the creature’s head. With a soft *fwump*, its oversized ears, which had been folded down, sprang upright. My own ears swiveled, betraying a flicker of interest. That was... unexpected. Movement. The human then tapped a small, plastic heart on its chest, and the thing erupted into a cascade of tinny, electronic music, a frantic little melody that sounded like a malfunctioning ice cream truck. It was dreadful, but the combination of the sudden sound and the ear-popping motion was a puzzle that needed solving. I descended from the chair with practiced grace, my gray tuxedo immaculate, and began my investigation. I approached Ty-Bee as one might approach a particularly strange beetle. I extended a single, careful claw and tapped the top of its head. *Fwump!* The ears shot up again. I retracted my claw, satisfied with the cause-and-effect. This was a reliable mechanism. I then tried the heart gem. The dreadful music returned. A nuisance, but a predictable one. Finally, I nudged its beak. It let out a series of clicks and gurgles, supposedly "feeding noises." It spoke in its native "Furbish," a nonsensical but rhythmic babble. It was not prey. It was not a rival. It was a machine, a simple contraption of predictable inputs and outputs. And yet, I couldn't quite leave it alone. For the next ten minutes, I conducted a thorough examination, a symphony of paw-taps and electronic responses. Tap head, ears pop. Tap heart, awful music. Tap beak, weird gurgles. It was a simple, reliable loop of entertainment. The sounds were an insult to my finely tuned ears, but the physical response of the pop-up ears was just satisfying enough to warrant repeated activation. My final verdict? Ty-Bee is a buffoon. A loud, musically challenged, mechanically simplistic buffoon. But its ear-popping trick is a decent-enough distraction between naps. I will permit its existence, primarily as a tool for demonstrating my superior intellect and dexterity to the easily-impressed human.
