Pete's Expert Summary
So, the larger of my two humans presented this... apparatus. It's from Nerf, a brand I associate with the startling *whizz-thump* of foam projectiles being fired at walls for no discernible reason. This "Nerfoop" appears to be their attempt at a stationary amusement. It involves a plastic backboard and a net that hangs pathetically from a door, turning a perfectly good exit into a source of intermittent thuds. The entire contraption seems like a colossal waste of my human's very limited intellect. However, it does come with a small, pockmarked orange sphere made of that delightfully soft foam. While the hoop itself is an aesthetic offense, the ball... the ball has potential. It could be a worthy adversary for a lightning-fast pounce, assuming I can convince the staff to stop trying to throw it through that ridiculous hanging circle.
Key Features
- CLASSIC MINI HOOP: The NERF mini over the door basketball hoop set is the perfect way to bring the fun of basketball indoors which is why it's been a kid-favorite for over 50 years!
- COMPLETE SET: This indoor basketball hoop game set comes complete with (1) over the door NERF basketball hoop and (1) mini NERF foam basketball included so you have everything you need to play
- EASY SETUP: Simply hang the mini hoop on the top of any standard-sized door to get the game started in no time!
- INDOOR SAFE: The soft NERF foam basketball makes it easy and safe for kids to play indoors after dark or on rainy days
- FUN FOR ALL: Whether you're looking to bring the fun of basketball to the bedroom or office, the Nerfoop mini hoop is the perfect way to bring the basketball action to you!
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The day it arrived was a day of profound disruption. My afternoon sunbeam nap in the hallway was rudely interrupted by the clumsy assembly of what I could only assume was a new, avant-garde torture device. The human hung the plastic rectangle over the bedroom door, its flimsy net dangling like a wilted spiderweb. I watched from the shadows, my tail twitching in silent judgment. This, I concluded, was a test. A new altar upon which I was expected to perform some arcane ritual for their amusement. I would not be so easily manipulated. My human then produced the orange orb. He bounced it once—a dull, unsatisfying *thump* on the hardwood—before tossing it at the altar. It sailed cleanly through the net. He seemed pleased. I was not. He retrieved the orb and repeated the process. A bizarre, pointless ceremony of offering and retrieval. Was he trying to feed the door? Was this a tribute to the Great Hinge Spirit? His methods were bafflingly inefficient. A truly worthy offering would be placed directly into my food bowl, not thrown at a piece of furniture. He missed. The throw was wide, the orange orb careening off the doorframe and rolling in a wobbly, unpredictable path directly toward my hiding spot beneath the credenza. Ah. So the ritual was not the point; the *failure* was. This was a sophisticated delivery system. The orb came to a stop a paw's-length away. I extended a single, perfect gray claw and gently hooked the foam. The texture was exquisite—a dense, yielding surface that accepted my claw without a fight. It was light, filled with a certain kinetic promise. I gave it a tentative pat. It skittered away, a silent, perfect prey. The human called my name, his voice tinged with that blend of amusement and frustration I know so well. I ignored him. This was my orb now. The altar on the door was merely its perch, a high-ground storage solution to keep it safe until I demanded it be brought down for my inspection. The human’s strange throwing game was his convoluted way of serving me. He would throw, and I would decide if the offering was worthy of my attention by deigning to capture it when it inevitably fell. I nudged the orb with my nose, then sent it rocketing under the sofa with a swift one-two punch from my front paws. I then sat, perfectly still, and stared at the human, then at the empty net hanging from the door. His training was to begin immediately. The toy, in its entirety, is absurd. But the system, once properly understood and corrected by a superior intelligence, is begrudgingly acceptable. It stays.
