Pete's Expert Summary
My human seems to believe this "Bookish Cats" puzzle is a "family" activity, which is a charmingly naive way of saying they intend to scatter 500 potential new toys all over the coffee table. I must admit, the concept is intriguing—portraying literary giants as felines is a level of high-minded sycophancy I can respect. The promise of "virtually no puzzle dust" is a major selling point, as I refuse to have my pristine tuxedo coat sullied by cheap cardboard debris. While the humans are occupied fitting together images of "The Great Catsby," I will be conducting my own rigorous tests on the aerodynamic properties of individual pieces. The true prize, of course, is the 8x8 inch box, which appears to be a perfectly suitable throne for overseeing the proceedings. The puzzle itself is a temporary distraction for them; the box is a permanent upgrade for me.
Key Features
- 500-PIECE PUZZLE – The 500-piece ribbon cut jigsaw puzzle is just the right level of challenge, making it ideal for the whole family. Measuring 20” x 20”, this puzzle is sure to provide hours of memorable and quality entertainment.
- UNIQUE ILLUSTRATIONS – This jigsaw puzzle features 9 famous writers as adorable cat portraits. Some of these artists include Romeow & Juliet by William Shakespurr, The Great Catsby by F. Scott Fitzhairball and Purride & Prejudice by Jane Pawsten and more!
- HIGHEST QUALITY MATERIALS – Mudpuppy uses continuous quality control checks during production to ensure there is virtually no puzzle dust. Each piece is printed with no glare, non-toxic inks.
- STURDY STORAGE BOX – The durable 8” x 8” x 2” storage box is an ideal place to keep pieces safe, together, and free from damage. It’s also great for gift giving!
- SCREEN-FREE FUN – For over 25 years, Mudpuppy has created quality non-digital puzzles, games and toys for children and families that facilitate creative play and imaginative thinking. All Mudpuppy products adhere to CPSIA, ASTM, and CE Safety Regulations.
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The ceremony began with a ritualistic tearing of plastic, a sound that signals either the arrival of a treat or, as in this case, a new object for my dominion. My human emptied the box onto the low table in the living room, a cascade of colorful, nonsensically shaped confetti. It was an insult to order, a chaotic mess that they, for some reason, found engaging. I observed from my perch on the back of the sofa, tail twitching in mild disdain. They called it a puzzle. I called it a project of questionable merit. As they began their slow, methodical work, I descended to conduct a preliminary inspection. I selected a single piece—a vibrant blue edge—and nudged it with my nose. The surface was smooth, with a matte, no-glare finish that didn't offensively reflect the lamplight into my sensitive eyes. A good start. I gave it a tentative pat, sending it skittering across the hardwood floor. It slid beautifully, without tumbling. Satisfactory glide ratio. I then located it beneath the credenza, captured it gently in my mouth—noting the lack of any unpleasant chemical taste, as promised by the "non-toxic inks"—and deposited it safely inside my human's slipper for later. A curator must occasionally acquire pieces for his private collection. Over the next evening, a strange gallery began to emerge from the chaos. I saw the face of a thoughtful tabby in a ruff, clearly meant to be Shakespurr. Another, a sleek black cat with an air of tragic glamour, could only be Edgar Allan Poe. These were not just cats in costumes; they were portraits imbued with a certain dignity. The humans, bless their simple hearts, were merely assembling a puzzle. I, however, was witnessing the construction of a pantheon dedicated to the feline ideal of intellectual superiority. They were building a monument to us, and they didn't even realize it. When the final piece was about to be placed—a section of Jane Pawsten's bonnet—I made my move. I leaped silently onto the table, my soft paws making no sound on the assembled work. I walked directly to the center of the 20x20 inch tableau and curled up, my gray and white form the final, living centerpiece. The humans sighed, but they did not move me. They understood. The work was not complete without the approval of its subject. The puzzle was amusing, the quality was acceptable, but its true purpose was to serve as a worthy new napping platform, a canvas for a true masterpiece: me.
