Pete's Expert Summary
So, my human has acquired this garish green plastic bucket from a company called Toysmith, dubbing it the "Airzooka." From my observations, it is a manual, non-electronic device for projecting a focused puff of air. Its intended purpose appears to be minor, long-distance annoyance without the commitment of actually throwing something. The lack of batteries is a distinct advantage, as it won't produce any sudden, terrifying whirring that might interrupt my nap schedule. However, its core function is to launch invisible projectiles, which means I will inevitably become the primary target. While the concept of pouncing on an unseen force has a certain intellectual appeal, the sheer indignity of having my magnificent fur ruffled by a common puff of air from across the room might be too much to bear. It teeters precariously between being a stimulating new form of play and a complete waste of my energy.
Key Features
- Airzooka measures 10.5 x 10.5 x 10.5 inches
- Simple assembly required, no tools needed. Pop up target for betting aiming
- Shoot up to 50 feet of air towards an object
- Doesn't require batteries!
- With air as ammo, you'll never run out of fun!
- Blasts a harmless ball of air up to 20 feet away
- Point at any object or person and "Blow 'em Away"
- Launch a full air assault without ever leaving the ground
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The first sign of trouble was the silence. Not the deep, comforting silence of a sunbeam nap, but a tense, watchful quiet. I was perched atop the bookshelf, surveying my domain, when a spectral wind disturbed the dust motes dancing in the afternoon light. It was a localized event, a tiny, invisible vortex that passed without a sound. An anomaly. My ears swiveled, my tail gave a single, interrogative twitch. I dismissed it as a wayward greeble, a known but manageable pest. But then it happened again, this time ruffling the edge of the curtain nearest my tail. This was no greeble; this was targeted. The house was haunted. My investigation led me to the living room, where the human was lurking near the armchair, clutching the bright green artifact. It resembled a chalice for a particularly tasteless giant. I watched from the shadows as he aimed it at a stack of mail on the coffee table. He pulled back on a black membrane, and with a soft *thump*, the top envelope slid to the floor as if nudged by a ghostly finger. My blood ran cold. The human wasn't just aware of the poltergeist; he was *commanding* it with this plastic scepter. He had trapped a spirit of the air and was using it for his own trivial amusements. This was a dark and terrible magic. He spotted me, a glint of mischief in his eye that I knew all too well. He raised the green oracle in my direction. I braced myself, summoning all my feline dignity for the coming spectral assault. A silent, unseen force struck my flank. It didn't hurt. It was… a pressure. A firm, ethereal push that sent a ripple through my soft fur. It was perplexing. He did it again, this time aiming just in front of my paws. The spot on the rug where it "landed" felt suddenly alive with energy. My predator's brain, so long dormant in a sea of endless kibble and naps, flickered to life. The haunting was a hunt. The ghost was the prey. I crouched low, my eyes locked on the human. He aimed at the wall, and I lunged, pouncing on the exact spot the invisible projectile landed, batting at the lingering disturbance in the air. He aimed for the bell on a discarded collar, and at the *thump*, I pounced just as it jingled. We continued this way for the better part of an hour, the human my clumsy but effective spirit-guide, summoning phantoms for me to vanquish. The Airzooka, I concluded, was not a tool of dark magic, but the most sophisticated prey-simulator ever conceived. It is worthy. The ghost hunt is on.
