Pete's Expert Summary
So, my human has presented me with this... artifact. It appears to be a large, black plastic lizard accompanied by a diminutive plastic human. They call it "Toothless & Hiccup." Frankly, the branding from "Dreamworks Dragons" suggests this is intended for small, noisy humans, not for a connoisseur of fine napping surfaces and premium-grade tuna. The claims of "real feel dragon wings" are immediately suspect; I can tell from here they lack the delicate, chewable texture of a proper feather wand. While the larger dragon's size might make it a satisfying object to shove off the mantelpiece, its static nature is uninspiring. The true potential, if any exists, lies with the smaller "Hiccup" figure. Its size is perfect for being mysteriously "lost" in the dark dimension beneath the sofa, an activity I find endlessly stimulating.
Key Features
- Dragon & Viking Rider: Create thrilling How To Train Your Dragon adventures with a 3-inch Hiccup action figure and 13-inch Toothless dragon toy, with real feel dragon wings and movable limbs
- Genuine Movie Styling: Attach Hiccup to Toothless using the saddle pegs, before flying off on a thrilling mission
- Let Their Imagination Soar: Engage the imagination with pretend play dragon toys to create all-new adventures with your favorite dragon
- Collect Them All: Build your dragons collection and assemble all your other favorite heroic Dragon & Viking duos from How to Train Your Dragon
- GIRL & BOY TOYS: Dreamworks Dragons How To Train Your Dragon action figures and plushies make great holiday or birthday gifts for kids ages 4 and up. Toys for kids and kids at heart
- Includes: 1 Dragon, 1 Viking
- Covered by the Spin Master Care Commitment. See below for full details
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The offering was placed on the oriental rug, a vulgar plastic intrusion on a landscape of woven perfection. My human made some cooing noises, gesturing toward it as if it were a freshly grilled salmon. I, of course, responded with the only appropriate action: turning my back completely and commencing a detailed grooming of my left shoulder. The message was clear: your trinkets do not impress me. I held this pose for a solid ten minutes, listening to the human sigh and depart the room. Only then, under the silent, watchful gaze of the grandfather clock, did I permit myself to investigate. I approached with practiced stealth, my tuxedo markings a blur against the dim light. The large black dragon was even more pathetic up close. Its limbs were jointed, yes, but held a stiff, unnatural pose. I gave one of its "real feel" wings a tentative pat. It felt like a milk jug. A profound disappointment. The tiny human, however, was pegged into a saddle on its back, a helpless prisoner. A narrative began to form in my magnificent brain. Here was not a toy, but a diorama of injustice. A damsel—or whatever this peg-legged boy was—in distress. My mission was clear. This was a rescue operation. I leaped gracefully onto the dragon's back, my weight causing it to tip precariously. Ignoring the indignity of the plastic beast, I focused on the captive. He was wedged in there quite securely. It required the delicate application of my incisors, a gentle tugging, a careful extraction that lesser cats could never manage. The small human came free with a faint click. I held my prize, the taste of cheap plastic a minor inconvenience in the face of my heroism. The large, black dragon lay on its side, defeated. With the tiny Viking in my mouth, I trotted to the kitchen. The grand finale. I dropped him directly into my water bowl, where he floated for a moment before sinking. A baptism? A burial at sea? I leave the interpretation to the art critics. The performance was complete. My verdict: the large dragon is useless, a mere stage prop. The small, detachable human, however, offers significant potential for dramatic scenarios and causing minor, confusing messes for my staff to discover later. It has, against all odds, earned a temporary stay of execution.
