Well, it appears the human has acquired a miniature blue locomotive with a disturbingly cheerful, yet vacant, face. Bachmann, a brand I understand is for serious human hobbyists, not for producing disposable fluff, is behind this creation. It's an "HO Scale" train, which means it's part of a much larger, more elaborate ritual involving tracks that will no doubt clutter a perfectly good napping floor. The selling points are its mechanical sounds—a whistle, puffs, and steam hisses—and its unnervingly mobile eyes. The metal wheels suggest a certain heft and a less-than-satisfying clatter when batted, so direct engagement seems unlikely. Frankly, this "Thomas" creature seems less like a toy for me and more like a loud, repetitive spectacle designed to entertain a simpler mind. Its worthiness will be determined entirely by whether its rhythmic journey is hypnotic enough to nap to, or if that whistle is sharp enough to be a capital offense.
The day began with an unwelcome disturbance. My human, whom I shall refer to as The Provider, was on the floor, connecting lengths of metal into a large, imperfect circle that bisected my favorite sunbeam. An infringement of the highest order. I watched from the arm of the sofa, tail twitching in silent, simmering judgment. The Provider then produced a box, and from it, lifted a blue contraption with a face. A round, gray, clown-like face with two wide, blue eyes that stared into nothingness. It was placed upon the metal rails, a silent, idiotic sentinel. I was unimpressed.
Then, with a low hum and a click from a device in The Provider's hand, the thing shuddered to life. A series of soft "puffs" emanated from it, followed by the steady, rhythmic *click-clack* of its metal wheels on the track. It began to move, its soulless eyes swiveling from side to side as it negotiated the first curve. It was a bizarre parade of one. I flattened myself against the sofa cushion, my own eyes narrowed to slits, tracking the mechanical beast on its predetermined path. It possessed none of the chaotic, thrilling energy of a laser dot, nor the satisfyingly frantic struggle of a feather wand. It was methodical. Predictable. Boring.
As it completed its first circuit, a piercing "TOOOOOOT!" erupted from its tiny body. My ears shot back, my fur bristled, and I nearly launched myself into the relative safety of the curtains. The audacity! To make such a noise in *my* domain, without so much as a by-your-leave. I glared at The Provider, who simply chuckled. But as the blue creature continued its rounds, the initial shock wore off. The rhythmic clatter became a kind of mechanical purr. The predictable motion was, I grudgingly admit, somewhat hypnotic. The side-to-side shift of its eyes was the most compelling feature, a tiny spark of simulated life in an otherwise inanimate object.
I never descended to the floor. I would not grant it the satisfaction of a chase it could never win or even comprehend. No, this was not a toy to be played with; it was an exhibit to be observed. I remained on my perch, a silent critic in a gray tuxedo, watching the silly blue train run in its endless circle. It was a monument to my human's strange and noisy pastimes. While it will never replace the primal thrill of a well-thrown crinkle ball, as a moving picture to gaze upon while slowly drifting off to sleep… I suppose I can permit its existence. For now.
