JOYIN 3 Packs Foldable Pail Bucket with Shovels & Mesh Bag, Collapsible Buckets Multi Purpose for Beach, Camping Gear, Beach Party, Fishing, and Fun Summer Activities (Orange/Blue/Green)

A Tale from Pete the Cat

It arrived as a trio of flat, brightly colored discs, stacked like sacrificial offerings in the center of the living room rug. I observed from my post on the velvet armchair, my tail giving a slow, contemplative twitch. They were inert, offensively cheerful circles of orange, blue, and green. My human, with the typical lack of ceremony I’ve come to expect, picked up the blue one. I anticipated a frisbee-like toss, an insult I was prepared to ignore with theatrical grace. Instead, with a flick of the wrist and a soft *thwump*, the disc unfolded. It grew, stretching upwards into a three-dimensional shape. A container. A void. My whiskers twitched. This was a violation. Objects in my world are fixed; a box is a box, a bowl is a bowl. This flat thing had become a bucket through some sort of low-grade spatial magic. I descended from my perch, my paws silent on the hardwood, my gray-and-white tuxedo the picture of cautious investigation. The blue vessel stood there, shimmering slightly under the lights, smelling faintly of plastic and the warehouse it came from. It was an imposter, pretending to be a proper bucket. I circled it once, then twice. My human placed one of the flimsy plastic shovels beside it, a pathetic imitation of a proper digging tool. I ignored it. My focus was on the shapeshifter. I gave the blue wall a tentative nudge with my nose. It yielded, wobbling like jelly. There was no satisfying resistance, no solid reassurance. I peered over the rim. It was a decent size, yes, a space one could theoretically occupy. But could one trust it? Could a gentleman of my refined sensibilities truly relax in a structure that could, at any moment, decide to revert to its two-dimensional state? The thought was appalling. This was not a toy; it was a cheap trick. A spectacle. The magic of its transformation was a fleeting novelty, but its substance was a profound disappointment. It lacked the dignity of cardboard, the sturdiness of a well-made basket, the simple honesty of a sunbeam. I gave the wobbly creation one last look of disdain, turned my back on it, and leaped back onto the armchair. Some things are simply not worthy of a second thought, and a bucket with an identity crisis is chief among them. My nap was far more important.