Pete's Expert Summary
My human, in a fit of what I can only assume is misplaced affection inspired by one of those glowing-rectangle worlds they stare at, has presented me with this... blocky canine effigy. It's a Mattel creation, a so-called "Dennis the Wolf," and its primary gimmick appears to be that it makes noise. You are supposed to shove a plastic bone into its mouth, which triggers a series of growls and barks. While the very concept of a barking toy is an insult to the refined silence I cultivate, I must admit a certain scientific curiosity. The promise of "fuzzy and soft" fur is a potential redeeming quality, possibly making it a passable headrest, but if the sound-making mechanism is not immediately responsive to my whims, this tribute to a lesser species will be nothing more than a lumpy obstacle on the way to my food bowl.
Key Features
- From A Minecraft Movie, the Food Mode Dennis interactive plush wolf is fuzzy and soft to the touch!
- The plush toy comes with a bone accessory for the hungry adventurer…
- …kids can feed the bone to Dennis the wolf by placing it in his mouth activating growling and barking sounds!
- Fearsome but lovable, Dennis is a breakout overworld star -- recreate movie scenes for play and display!
- Add to a collection or gift to a fan and bring the Minecraft fun to life for Minecraft lovers and collectors of all ages!
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The thing arrived with an air of cubic arrogance, placed unceremoniously on the Persian rug that serves as my primary afternoon sunning spot. It was an insult to geometry and a caricature of a proper predator, all sharp angles and pixelated fur patterns. It stared ahead with vacant, stitched-on eyes, a silent, blocky mockery of the lupine form. The Human, with their usual lack of subtlety, picked up a small, equally blocky plastic bone and thrust it into the creature’s mouth. A sudden, vulgar electronic bark erupted, shattering the peace. My ears flattened. An abomination. The Human chuckled, set the bone down beside the plush monstrosity, and left me to contemplate this new horror. For a long while, I simply observed from a distance, tail twitching in disapproval. The plush wolf, "Dennis," did not move. It did not breathe. It was a Trojan Wolf, hiding a cacophony within its synthetic fleece. My contempt, however, was soon warring with my insatiable curiosity. What were the parameters of this sound? Could it be controlled? I approached with the fluid grace of a hunter, sniffing the air. The bone lay there, a separate entity. I gave it a tentative pat with my paw. It skittered beautifully across the hardwood, a surprisingly satisfying, if secondary, feature. Prey-like. Promising. But the main event awaited. After chasing the bone into a corner and expertly hooking it back out from under the credenza, I returned to the silent wolf. This was not play; this was an interrogation. I nudged the bone with my nose towards its gaping, felt-lined maw. Nothing. It required intent. It required force. Taking the plastic in my teeth—a mild indignity, but necessary for science—I carefully pushed it into the designated slot. The electronic growl-bark sequence fired again, loud and obnoxious in the quiet room. I immediately dropped the bone and retreated. Then, a slow smile spread across my feline face. I had done that. It did not bark on its own. It barked for *me*. I picked up the bone and did it again. *BARK!* A jolt of pure, unadulterated power surged through me. This was not a toy. This was an instrument. A megaphone for my desires. Is the food bowl empty at 3 a.m.? A trip to Dennis will solve that. Is the Human paying too much attention to the noisy picture-box? A strategic bark from the corner will remind them of their true master. The wolf itself is a lumpy, aesthetically bankrupt pillow at best. But as a tool for commanding attention and sowing mild, intermittent chaos? Oh, it is magnificent. Dennis is not a friend; he is my new, gloriously annoying court herald. He is most certainly worthy.
