Buffalo Games - Beachcombers - 750 Piece Jigsaw Puzzle Multicolor, 24"L X 18"W

From: Buffalo Games

Pete's Expert Summary

My human, in her infinite and baffling wisdom, has procured a box from a company named for large, lumbering herbivores. Inside, apparently, are 750 small, flat, colorful bits of cardboard meant to occupy her for hours. They call it a "puzzle," I call it a pre-packaged mess. The goal seems to be to painstakingly reassemble the chaos into a single, flat image of a beach, which is patently absurd since we have a perfectly good sunbeam for napping right over there. While the large, crinkly poster and the sheer quantity of bat-able pieces show some promise for strategic disruption, the true value lies in the human's prolonged stationary state, which should free up her lap for its primary, intended purpose: serving as my throne.

Key Features

  • 750 PIECE JIGSAW PUZZLE – This 750-piece jigsaw puzzle is the perfect level of challenge. Measuring 24in. x 18in., this puzzle is a great single evening activity for the entire family, friend group or yourself. For adults ages 14 and up.
  • FUN AND RELAXING ACTIVITY: Puzzling is an excellent activity that promotes focus and relaxation. Whether puzzling solo or with friends and family, cozy up for an engaging and serene activity that is great for mental health, relaxation and quality time.
  • FULL-SIZED POSTER: Buffalo Games 750-piece puzzles include a large, full color, reference poster to assist with assembly.
  • GREAT GIFT: This 750 Piece Jigsaw puzzle makes for an ideal and thoughtful gift for puzzle enthusiasts and beginners alikescreen-free. Puzzling is an ideal activity for family game nights and encourages quality, time together offering a fun and mentally stimulating challenge.
  • MADE IN THE USA: Buffalo Games 750-piece puzzles are proudly made in the USA.

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The ritual began with a satisfying *crackle* as my human broke the seal on the box. A scent of fresh cardboard and ink filled the air, a promising overture. She then committed the cardinal sin of pouring all 750 pieces onto the dining room table with a sound like a thousand tiny locusts falling from the sky. My ears swiveled, my tail gave a slow, deliberate thump against the rug. From my perch on the armchair, I watched her begin the tedious process of sorting, her brow furrowed in concentration. She was building an empire of color-coded mediocrity. An empire that needed a king. I made my move under the guise of casual inspection. A soft leap onto the table, a delicate, four-pawed tread amongst the scattered fragments. They depicted seashells, bits of sand, and an offensively blue sky. My human murmured "No, Pete," but her hands were busy trying to find edge pieces, a fool's errand. I lowered my nose to a particularly interesting piece. It was an odd shape, mostly white with a sliver of beige, the corner of what was probably a sand dollar. It felt insignificant to her, but I recognized its true nature. It was the linchpin. With a flick of my paw, I sent the chosen piece skittering across the polished wood. It danced beautifully, a tiny, rebellious speck against the dark grain before disappearing over the edge. I heard the faint *tick* as it landed on the floor below. I feigned disinterest, stretching languidly and hopping down on the other side of the table, as if my work here was done. Which, of course, it was. For the next two evenings, I watched my masterpiece unfold. The beach scene slowly, painstakingly took shape, but a gaping hole remained. A void of frustration grew in its center. I watched my human crawl on the floor, muttering to herself, checking under the rug, peering beneath the sofa cushions. The "fun and relaxing activity" had become a high-stakes hunt. Later that night, as she slept, I retrieved my prize from its hiding place beneath the radiator. It was a perfect toy—small, light, and imbued with the delicious power of human exasperation. The puzzle itself was a bore, but as an instrument of psychological warfare? A resounding success. It is worthy.