Pete's Expert Summary
My human has presented me with a plastic orb on a stand, clearly another misguided attempt to appease the small, loud human that periodically infests my napping spots. It's a "Magic Adventures Globe" from LeapFrog, a brand I associate with noisy, battery-operated distractions. This one has a tiny screen and a plastic stick—a "stylus"—for poking it. The appeal, supposedly, is that it shows videos of animals and far-off places. While the notion of a private viewing window into the world's buffet of birds and rodents is intriguing, it seems to require far too much active participation. The true prize here is likely the stylus, which appears to have excellent potential for being batted under the sofa, or the "Frustration Free Packaging," which I pray is still a decently-sized cardboard box.
Key Features
- Go beyond countries and their capitals using this enhanced globe with a 2.8” video screen that explores cultures, animals, habitats and more through over five hours of BBC videos
- Educational: This world globe with stand and stylus lets you hear thousands of facts, interact with unique games, and trigger videos to visually experience Earth
- The 2.8" screen displays video and animations with playful characters that guide children through games and activities
- Interactive Map For Kids: Race around the world, discover new places, and solve mysteries by answering quiz questions in three entertaining & interactive games
- Intended for ages 5+ years; requires 4 AA batteries; batteries included for demo purposes only; new batteries recommended for regular use
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The new object sat on the floor, a garish plastic mockery of a world I already owned. The Small Human, my chief tormentor and the reason my water bowl is so often disturbed, was jabbing at it with a white plastic wand. I watched from the arm of the chair, feigning sleep but with one eye cracked open, my tail twitching in silent, rhythmic judgment. The orb would emit a chipper voice, then the tiny screen would flash with colors. An utter waste of electricity that could be better used to power my heated sleeping pad. My disdain, however, wavered when the Small Human jabbed a patch of green and the screen flickered to life with... a monkey. A real one, grooming another in a lush canopy. The orb emitted a faint chittering sound, a perfect, tantalizing replica. My ears swiveled forward, satellite dishes locking onto a signal of profound importance. The Small Human poked again. A desert, a tiny lizard skittering over the sand. I could almost feel the phantom grit in my paws, taste the dry air. This wasn't a toy. It was a catalog. A menu. That evening, long after the Small Human had been put in its sleeping crate, I descended from my perch. The house was silent, save for the hum of the refrigerator. I approached the orb, sniffing its plastic base. It was cold, inert. Using my nose, I nudged the stylus. It rolled slightly and tapped against the blue expanse of an ocean. The screen lit up, showing a school of shimmering fish. No sound this time, just the silent, hypnotic dance. I tapped it again with a soft paw, a more deliberate strike. The screen changed to a BBC video of a flock of sparrows in a city square. My hunting instincts flared, a low growl vibrating in my chest. I spent the next hour conducting my research. I was no longer Pete, the pampered house cat. I was a grand strategist, a global tactician. The stylus was my command baton, the globe my map of operations. A tap on North America revealed the scampering patterns of squirrels in a park. A jab at Australia showed the peculiar hopping gait of a wallaby. The humans thought this was a game of "Where is Egypt?" The fools. It was a comprehensive intelligence briefing on the planet's most pounce-able creatures. The toy is not for playing with. It is for studying. It is worthy, for it has given me a world of new things to dream of hunting.
