Pete's Expert Summary
My human, in a fit of what I can only assume is sun-induced delirium, has acquired a collection of bizarre blue foam objects from a brand called "Aqua." The name itself is a red flag, promising only wetness and indignity. This "fitness set" is apparently for flailing about in the Great Wet Square in the yard, a place I avoid with religious fervor. It contains a ridiculous-looking waist raft, two foam batons that likely have no flavor, and a pair of webbed gloves, a pathetic attempt to mimic the superior anatomy of a duck. From my perspective, this is a box of glorified pool noodles and an affront to dry, comfortable living. The only potential for entertainment is observing the human's clumsy splashing from a safe, sun-drenched distance, but the "toys" themselves hold absolutely zero appeal for a creature of my sophisticated tastes.
Key Features
- Aquatic Exercise Equipment: Six-Piece Set For A Low-Impact Workout; Includes Adult Swim Belt For 20-60 Inch Waist With Adjustable Strap And Buckle, Dumbbells, Resistance Gloves, And Manual
- Supportive Floatation Belt: Belt Made Of Soft Foam Provides “Neutral Buoyancy” Around Your Torso, And Is Optimized For Balance And Safety In Shallow Or Deep Water; Designed For Less Irritation With Adjustable Strap And Buckle For A Custom Fit; One Size Fits All
- Low-Impact Exercise: Challenge Yourself With Fun, Low-Impact Pool Exercise To Alleviate Stress On Your Joints; Swim Belt Is Great For Cross-Training, Rehabilitative Water Exercises, And Water Jogging/Walking
- Multipurpose Fitness Set: Great For All Aquatic Classes: General Pool Exercise, Underwater Fitness, Water Zumba, Water Aerobics, Water Physical Therapy, And Recovery Training.
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The box arrived on a Tuesday, an offense in itself as Tuesdays are designated for advanced napping. The human tore it open with the glee of a kitten discovering catnip for the first time, which was frankly unbecoming. Out spilled a jumble of offensively bright blue foam. They were laid out on my living room floor, a sacrilegious display of waterproof junk. There was a thick belt, which the human called a "buoyancy" aid—I called it a flotation device for the terminally clumsy. There were two foam cylinders, and a pair of gloves that made the human's hands look like misshapen frog feet. I watched from the arm of the velvet chaise, my tail twitching in profound disappointment. This was not a toy. This was a tragedy. My human, of course, misread my irritation as curiosity. "What do you think, Pete? Time to get fit?" they chirped, picking up one of the foam dumbbells and waggling it in my general direction. I gave it a look of such withering disdain that a lesser creature would have simply evaporated. The dumbbell was inert, lifeless. It had no feathers, no crinkle, no tantalizing scent of fish or fowl. It was an insult to the very concept of "play." I closed my eyes, hoping to signal that this conversation was over and that they should dispose of the evidence immediately. But then, a glimmer of hope. As the human fumbled with the belt, trying to adjust the "one size fits all" strap, my eyes locked onto the loose end. It was a long, black nylon ribbon, tipped with a hard plastic buckle. While the human was distracted by the baffling science of their new water wings, I executed a flawless, silent descent from the chaise. The foam was beneath my station, but the strap… the strap was a different matter entirely. It was a snake, a challenger. I batted at the buckle, and it produced a most satisfying *skitter-clack* across the hardwood floor. Another pat. *Clack-clack-skitter.* Oh, yes. This had potential. The human finally noticed, laughing as I pounced and wrestled the strap into submission, dragging the entire useless blue belt along with it. They thought I was "playing" with their new equipment. The fool. I wasn't playing with their equipment; I was harvesting it for parts. The foam contraptions could be sacrificed to the chlorinated abyss for all I cared. But this strap, this beautiful, noisy, delightfully defiant strap and its clacking buckle—this was mine. It would be my trophy, a testament to my ability to find a diamond in a veritable mountain of blue foam rough. The "fitness set" was a failure, but my hunt was a resounding success.
