Pete's Expert Summary
My Human, in a clear misunderstanding of my sophisticated needs, has procured this… object. It is a rigid, plastic effigy of a half-human, half-fish creature, presumably for the entertainment of their own smaller, louder kind. Its most prominent features are an explosion of synthetic, candy-colored hair—which I admit possesses a certain swattable allure—and a tail that seems woefully inadequate for actual swimming. Apparently, it is part of a "collection" meant to inspire "friendship stories," a concept that is entirely foreign to me unless it involves a shared patch of sun. Given its complete lack of catnip, feathers, or any self-propelling mechanism, its primary value seems to be as an object I can knock off a high shelf in the middle of the night.
Key Features
- Explore a magical undersea world at playtime with this colorful collection of Barbie mermaid dolls
- Each mermaid doll has a uniquely designed shell bodice, as well as tropical-colored tails with ombre fins
- Their ocean-inspired headbands add a pop of signature sea style to their vibrant, highlighted hair
- Kids can discover other mermaids in the collection to inspire friendship stories and imagine fantastical worlds
- From mermaids and unicorns to royals and more, Barbie fairytale dolls make an enchanting toy for kids
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The case was cold, but the trail was fresh. My prized Blue Jay feather, ripped from its wand in a moment of sheer acrobatic genius, had vanished. The Human claimed ignorance, a common tactic. But I knew. I had my suspicions, and they were confirmed when I padded into the living room and saw *her*. She was a newcomer, a silent figure with vacant, painted-on eyes and a gaudy, shell-inspired top. She just lay there on the rug, a smug, unblinking smile on her face, her ostentatious pink and lilac hair fanned out like a confession. I began the interrogation with a low, guttural growl, a sound I reserve for the vacuum cleaner and unexpected guests. She remained silent, her plastic form gleaming under the lamp light. I circled her slowly, my gray tuxedo immaculate, my gaze piercing. Her story had holes. Why the mermaid tail? A clear attempt to feign an alibi of being "under the sea" when the crime occurred right here, on the Persian rug. A clumsy, amateurish ploy. I moved in closer, sniffing for evidence. A faint scent of factory plastic and cardboard, nothing more. I nudged her lavender tail with my nose. No reaction. I batted at the so-called "ocean-inspired headband," sending it skittering across the hardwood. Still nothing. Her silence was infuriating, a wall of impassive defiance. Was she the culprit, or merely a witness? I stared into her eyes, trying to glean a sliver of truth, but found only the hollow reflection of a vastly superior being—myself. Then it struck me with the force of a freshly opened can of tuna. She wasn't the perpetrator. She was a diversion. My Human, the true culprit, had planted this gaudy decoy to distract me from the loss of my favorite toy, hoping I'd be entranced by the synthetic hair and bright colors. The audacity. She wasn't a worthy adversary, merely an inanimate obstacle. I gave her tail one last, disdainful flick and sauntered away. The case wasn't closed, but this witness was a dead end.