Pete's Expert Summary
So, the humans have installed what appears to be a miniature, brightly colored interrogation platform in the middle of my living room. This "Little Tikes Trampoline," as they call it, is supposedly for the small, loud human to "burn off energy"—a futile endeavor, in my experience. I see a taut, black surface that could, theoretically, serve as an elevated napping dais, offering a superior vantage point. However, its primary function involves undignified bouncing, and it comes with a ridiculous "handle bar," as if a creature of my grace and balance would ever need such a crutch. Its constant, indoor presence is an intrusion, but the potential for a new, strategically-placed bed warrants a cautious, one-eyed investigation between naps.
Key Features
- Perfect trampoline for toddlers to burn off energy
- Features large jumping surface and handle bar for stability
- Plastic and metal combination
- Trampoline is for indoor use only. Age- 3 to 6 years. Ground to top of handle bar- 34.00 inch H. Jumping surface to top of handle bar- 26.25 inch H
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The thing arrived in a state of disassembly, a collection of garish blue plastic and cold metal tubes that the Chief Engineer (my human) pieced together with an alarming amount of grunting. I observed from beneath the sofa, my tail twitching in irritation as my territory was invaded by this new, circular anomaly. They called it "The Jiggler." Once constructed, the small, clumsy Ensign was unleashed upon it, producing a series of rhythmic thuds and shrieks that grated on my finely-tuned ears. It was, I concluded, a primitive training module, designed to test the endurance of a very junior crew member. Later that evening, under the cloak of quiet, I launched my formal inspection. The house was still, the Ensign secured in its recharging station. I circled The Jiggler, my paws silent on the hardwood. It smelled of new plastic and the faint, chaotic energy of the toddler. I placed a single, tentative paw on the black mat. It gave way with a disconcerting sponginess. With a sigh of professional obligation, I leaped aboard. The entire surface oscillated beneath my weight, a deeply unsettling sensation, like standing on a captured nebula. This was no stable platform. My gaze fell upon the handlebar. The Ensign had used it for balance, gripping it with sticky fingers. I, however, saw its true purpose. It was not a handle; it was a periscope, a sensor array. I stood on my hind legs, placing my front paws upon it and peering over, surveying my kingdom from this new, wobbly command deck. I could see the top of the bookshelf, the dust motes dancing in the moonlight from the window, the sleeping form of the dog across the room. The view was… adequate. The bounciness, however, was a critical design flaw. Dignity is paramount, and being jiggled is the antithesis of dignity. My final verdict was delivered silently, as all important decrees are. The Jiggler, as a kinetic device, is an utter failure. However, as a stationary, elevated observation post, it has some limited strategic value. I will not bounce. I will not jiggle. But I will, from time to time, occupy its center as a throne, a silent, gray monarch on a slightly unstable dais, asserting my command over all I survey. It may remain, but only as a testament to my ability to find purpose in the follies of others.
