Pete's Expert Summary
My human has presented me with what appears to be a training manual for small, clumsy humans. It's a book from Melissa & Doug, a brand I associate with sticky fingers and simplistic designs. The concept involves a "magic" pen filled with water—a substance I prefer for drinking, not doodling—that reveals crude drawings of loud, rumbling "vehicles" on its pages. Frankly, the temporary art is an insult to my sophisticated aesthetic. However, the chunky pen might have a satisfying heft for batting under the sofa, and the spiral binding presents a tantalizing opportunity for a dramatic claw-snagging incident. While the primary function is clearly a waste of my valuable waking hours, its potential as a tool for chaos is... noted.
Key Features
- Four fun activity/coloring vehicle-themed board books, each with refillable water pen
- Reusable white pages feature simple line drawings when dry; filled with color when wet
- Chunky-size water pen for easy filling, easy gripping
- Compact, spiral-bound format that's great for travel
- Promotes fine motor skills, early writing skills, and visual discrimination; product made with FSC-certified materials that support responsible forestry; applies to new inventory only (FSC C156584)
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The object was laid on the rug like an offering. It was an unassuming square, white and silent. My human, with an expression of misplaced pride, unscrewed the cap on a plastic cylinder, filled it with water at the sink, and then returned to dab at the blank page. I watched, feigning disinterest from my post on the armchair. As the wet tip touched the surface, a garish red shape bloomed into existence. A "fire truck," she called it. An assault on the senses. She completed the page, revealing more noisy contraptions, before leaving the "toy" for my inspection. I descended from my perch, circling the strange tablet. The colors were already beginning to fade as the water evaporated, the red beast receding back into the white void from whence it came. This was not a drawing. This was a summoning. The human, in her ignorance, was practicing a strange and temporary magic, calling forth spirits of loud, obnoxious things and then banishing them just as quickly. The "pen" was her wand, the water her medium. I nudged the wand with my nose. It rolled slightly. This was powerful stuff, clearly not meant for the likes of me. My curiosity, however, is a force that cannot be denied. With a delicate paw, I tapped the pen so that its damp tip touched a fresh, blank page. A smear of blue appeared instantly. An airplane. I recoiled. I had done it. I had summoned the spirit of the Screaming Sky-Beast that sometimes passes over our roof. I stared at it, my ears flattened. I had to know if I could also banish it. I sat perfectly still, my tail twitching, and watched. Slowly, minute by minute, the blue specter grew faint, its form dissolving until the page was once again a silent, empty white. A wave of profound power washed over me. I was not just a cat; I was a sorcerer, a master of manifestation and dismissal. This "activity pad" was no mere toy. It was a grimoire, a book of spells for calling and un-calling the mundane spirits of the human world. The human thinks she is teaching her young to color, but in reality, she has handed me the keys to a minor dimension. This device is dangerous, potent, and utterly captivating. It is, without question, worthy of my focused and eternal supervision.
