Pete's Expert Summary
So, the Human has presented me with a 'Rescue Hero' from Fisher-Price, a brand I associate with slobber and simplistic primary colors. This particular specimen is a small, plastic hominid named Sandy O'Shin, burdened with an assortment of detachable sea-faring implements. The concept of 'underwater rescue' is, of course, patently absurd and offensive to any self-respecting feline. However, I will concede a flicker of interest. The small, loose accessories could prove tantalizing targets for a well-aimed paw swipe under the credenza. More importantly, this 'rescue claw' contraption has a button. A button that actuates a mechanical movement. While the doll itself is a monument to tastelessness, the claw might just be a puzzle worthy of my intellectual efforts.
Key Features
- Sandy O’Shin is one of the new cadets on the Rescue Heroes team
- Create exciting underwater rescue missions with Sandy O’Shin!
- Figure comes with removable flippers, scuba gear, and underwater rescue claw
- Press the button to open and close the rescue claw
- For kids ages 3 years and older
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The incident began, as most do, with a profound injustice. My favorite silver bottle cap—the one with the crispest skittering sound on the hardwood—had been unceremoniously knocked from the coffee table by the Human’s clumsy limb. It slid, with horrifying finality, into the dark chasm beneath the entertainment center, a realm just beyond the reach of my most extended paw. I was preparing a formal, vocally-expressed complaint when the Human returned, not with a yardstick as is proper, but with *her*. This Sandy O’Shin. A plastic sentinel in a garish blue and orange wetsuit, holding a grotesque mechanical pincer. I watched in silent judgment from the arm of the sofa. The Human lay on the floor, manipulating the doll and its claw-arm like a clumsy puppeteer. There was a pathetic plastic *clack* as she pressed the button, the claw opening and closing with none of the grace or silence of a true predator. She fumbled, scraped the floor, and finally managed to grip my bottle cap, dragging it out into the light. She then placed the doll, the claw, and my hard-won prize on the rug and walked away, humming. The audacity. This was not a rescue; it was theft by an inferior proxy. Once the lumbering Human was gone, I descended from my perch. I gave the doll’s vacant, painted-on eyes a look of pure disdain before turning my attention to the true object of interest: the claw. It was an insult, yes, but it was also a mechanism. I nudged it with my nose. Cold, smooth plastic. I gently tapped the large red button on its side with my paw. *CLICK-CLACK.* The pincers snapped open. I tapped it again. *CLICK-CLACK.* They snapped shut. I spent a full minute mastering the device, opening and closing it with the detached air of an engineer evaluating a rival's crude invention. Having thoroughly demystified the technology and proven my intellectual superiority over this simple machine, I rendered my final verdict. I nudged the Sandy O'Shin figure onto its side, placed a single, definitive paw on the claw to still it, and hooked my actual, superior claw under the edge of my bottle cap. With a flick, I sent it spinning across the floor and gave chase, leaving the defeated "hero" to her silent, plastic vigil in the dust bunnies. A momentary diversion, but hardly a replacement for the classics.
