Pete's Expert Summary
My Human, in a moment of questionable judgment, has brought home effigies of the enemy. This "Just Play" brand seems to cater to the simple minds of small children, and these two plush objects—a blue and a magenta *dog*—are an insult to my refined sensibilities. They are apparently filled with beans, which gives them a certain heft that might be satisfying to bunny-kick into submission. The claim of "super soft fabric" is noted; I only permit textures that rival my own luxurious gray coat to touch my person. Still, they are shaped like dogs. The question remains whether the potential satisfaction of vanquishing these silent, floppy intruders outweighs the sheer indignity of their presence in my kingdom.
Key Features
- This product has polybag packaging that may reveal what's inside and cannot be hidden.
- Includes Blue and Magenta.
- Made of super soft fabric.
- Ages 3+
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The Human called them "Blue" and "Magenta" and set them on the ottoman with a hopeful look. I offered only a slow, deliberate blink, the highest form of feline dismissal. Dogs. In my house. They were soft, I’d grant them that after a brief, disdainful sniff. But their vacant, stitched-on smiles and garish colors were an assault on the elegant gray-and-white aesthetic of my world. I turned my back on them and leaped onto the high shelf of the bookcase, my personal throne room, to observe their inevitable failure to amuse me from a superior vantage point. They just sat there, a duo of colorful, lumpy disappointments. Hours passed. The sunbeam I was napping in shifted. The Human went out. The house was quiet, save for the low hum of the refrigerator and a faint, almost imperceptible *skittering* sound from behind the entertainment center. A mouse. Not one of the tribute mice the Human occasionally brings in a crinkly bag, but a real, live-in usurper of my domain. My nap was forgotten. I flowed down from the bookshelf, a shadow with paws, and began the hunt. The mouse was clever, darting behind cables and under furniture, always one step ahead. It was a frustrating, undignified chase that was beginning to wound my pride. In a flash of desperate speed, the mouse shot across the open floor and scurried directly under the ottoman where the two plush dogs still sat. I froze, thwarted. I couldn't fit my head under there, and pawing blindly was for amateurs. I stared at the ottoman, my tail twitching in fury. My eyes fell on the magenta dog-thing. It was limp, heavy, and utterly useless. Or was it? An idea, born of pure, predatory genius, sparked in my mind. I leaped onto the ottoman, grabbed the plush by its floppy ear, and with a grunt of effort, I *heaved* it off the side. It landed with a heavy, bean-filled *THWUMP*. There was a squeak of alarm from beneath the ottoman, and the mouse shot out from the other side, disoriented by the sudden shockwave. It was all the opening I needed. In two bounds, the hunt was over. I stood over my prize, panting slightly, and looked back at the discarded magenta plush. Then I looked at the blue one, still sitting placidly. They were not toys to be batted about. They were tools. They were my heavy ordinance, my collaborators in maintaining household order. I dragged the magenta one back onto the rug, placing it beside me as I dealt with the mouse. They had proven their worth in a way the Human could never have intended. They could stay. They were no longer toys; they were my tactical support squad.