Pete's Expert Summary
My human has presented me with what appears to be a wearable lumpy pillow system from a brand called "BelugaDesign." It is, I deduce, a set of padded shorts and knee guards intended to protect her fragile frame when she partakes in the undignified activity of sliding down frozen water hills. While the very concept of intentionally falling is beneath me, I must concede a certain curiosity. The "soft and breathable EVA pads" sound appealing for a vigorous session of biscuit-making, and the adjustable straps could provide a moment's distraction. However, as it is designed to be worn by a human—and a small one at that—its primary function seems to be a complete waste of my time, unless it can be repurposed for a higher, more feline-centric calling.
Key Features
- ⛷ SET | Bundle of a butt pad and 2 knee pads set! Great value
- ⛷ WOMEN S | Only for women's small. Adjustable straps allow for flexibility and secure fit.
- ⛷ PROTECTIVE | Multi-layer protection against scratches and falls for hips, knees, butt, and more.
- ⛷ ADJUSTABLE | Adjustable straps provide extra protection and comfort. Soft and breathable EVA pads.
- ⛷ STORE | Visit our BelugaDesign store for more winter sports accessories like snowboarding, skiing, and summer sports like skateboarding and mountain biking.
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The box arrived with the usual fanfare of tearing cardboard and my human's cooing exclamations. From the packaging, she extracted a strange, black exoskeleton. It was a pair of shorts that looked as though they had swallowed several smaller, flatter pillows, along with two matching knee accoutrements. She laid the set out on the rug, a sacrificial offering to the god of the household—me. I circled it once, tail held at a skeptical right angle. The scent was sterile, a factory-fresh aroma that spoke of zero interesting histories. It was, in short, an insult. My human, whom I permit to be my Staff, then did the unthinkable. She wriggled into the contraption, strapping the pads to her knees and hoisting the lumpy shorts into place. She began bending and squatting, making "swoosh" noises as she mimicked careening down a mountain in our living room. She looked like a beetle attempting to dance. I watched, unimpressed, from my perch on the armchair, giving a slow, deliberate blink to convey my profound disappointment in her life choices. This was not a toy. This was a public display of absurdity. Then, she bent over, hands on her padded knees, to adjust a strap. And in that moment, I saw it. Not a piece of protective gear, but a throne. The padded posterior, a quilted landscape of glorious potential, presented itself as a perfect, elevated perch. It was an invitation. With the fluid grace only my kind possesses, I launched myself from the armchair, soaring through the air in a perfect gray-and-white arc. I landed squarely on her padded rump. It was glorious. Soft, yet stable. High enough for a commanding view of my domain. The Staff froze, letting out a surprised "Oof!" She tried to straighten, but I dug my claws in just enough to state my intentions. This was my spot now. I began to purr, a rumbling engine of victory, and settled in for a nap. She remained bent over, a living, breathing, and occasionally whining piece of cat furniture. The BelugaDesign padded shorts had failed as ski equipment but succeeded spectacularly as a mobile imperial dais. They were, I decided, worthy. Not for play, but for service.
