Pete's Expert Summary
My human has presented me with what appears to be a garish pink swine, a plastic effigy with a suspiciously wide grin and a slot in its back. They claim it is an "educational" device for the smaller, less-coordinated humans, designed to fill the house with noise about colors and something they call "Spanish." Frankly, the only numbers I care about are the number of seconds my food bowl remains empty. However, my discerning eye has noticed the true prize: ten small, colorful, plastic discs. These coins, as they are called, seem perfectly engineered for skittering across hardwood floors and disappearing into the dark, mysterious voids beneath the furniture. The pig itself is a noisy distraction, but the potential for orchestrating a house-wide scavenger hunt with its contents is… promising.
Key Features
- Musical toy piggy bank with 40+ songs, sounds and phrases
- 2 Smart Stages learning levels teach numbers and counting, colors, and Spanish words
- Drop the coins into piggy’s back or press the nose for fun songs, sounds and phrases
- Includes 10 colorful coins with numbers or animals on each side for put-and-take play
- Helps foster fine motor skills and introduces cause & effect for infants and toddlers ages 6 months to 3 years old
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The box it arrived in was far more interesting, but the humans insisted on discarding it for this… this *thing*. It sat in the middle of the living room rug, a plastic monument to poor taste. Pink, rotund, with a vacant, painted-on smile, it seemed to be mocking the sophisticated gray-and-white elegance of my own fur. The human, in a misguided attempt to foster a bond, pressed its snout. A horrifyingly cheerful voice erupted, singing about counting. I flattened my ears and gave a low, guttural hiss from the safety of the armchair. This was not a toy; it was an auditory menace, a disruption to the finely tuned acoustics of my napping environment. My initial assessment was clear: avoid at all costs. But then the human produced the "coins." They were light, flimsy, and vibrantly colored, each with a different marking. They dropped one into the slot on the pig's back. It made a hollow *clack-thunk* sound, followed by another blast of synthesized music. The human did this a few more times before, bless their simple, distractible mind, they left one of the yellow coins on the floor and walked away to inspect their glowing rectangle. Silence returned, punctuated only by the hum of the refrigerator. This was my moment. I descended from my perch with the practiced silence of a seasoned predator. The coin lay there, an affront to the neutral tones of the rug. I nudged it with my nose. Nothing. I extended a single, perfect claw and gave it a tentative *pat*. It was magnificent. The disc shot across the polished wood floor, spinning and sliding until it came to a rest precisely under the edge of the entertainment center. A thrill went through me. This wasn't about the pig. The pig was merely the vault. The human eventually noticed the missing coin and opened the little door on the pig’s side, spilling the contents out to start the "game" again. They had no idea. The game had already begun, but it was *my* game. While the pig oinked and chattered about "rojo" and "azul," I was already plotting the trajectory for the green coin. My mission was no longer about napping or demanding tribute. It was about liberation. Each coin would be freed from its noisy prison and granted a new, secret home—one in the heating vent, another behind the great metal cold-box in the kitchen, a third in the depths of a discarded boot. The pig is a worthy opponent, not for its intellect, but for the sheer brilliance of the treasure it so foolishly guards. Let the humans search; I am the master of this new, silent economy.
