Furbo 360 Dog Camera

Dad

I got this for you. What's your initial read?

Boldo

It's a camera. I can tell because you keep pointing it at me and checking your phone like it matters. The real question is whether it does anything useful or if it's just another thing you'll forget about in two weeks. Right now it's just sitting there judging me.

Dad

Let's talk smells. That always comes first with you.

Boldo

Plastic. Cheap plastic from a factory somewhere. There's also something underneath—probably the electronic guts—but it's sealed tight so I can't get a real read on it. No food smell. No treat smell. This is already a disappointment on the smell front, and we're only three hours in.

Dad

You've been weirdly quiet about this one. What's going on?

Boldo

I'm waiting to see if it's going to do anything interesting or if it's just a surveillance device you bought because you feel guilty leaving me alone. Wait—is that bacon? Are you making bacon in the kitchen right now? No? Then we're back to me being unimpressed. The camera seems fine. It moves around. You can see things. Big deal.

Dad

Does it matter that the cat seems indifferent to it?

Boldo

The cat being indifferent to something doesn't make it good, Dad. The cat is indifferent to most things, including my quality of life. But fine, the camera doesn't seem to bother him, which means it probably won't bother me. It's not scary. It's not loud. It just exists up there like a little plastic spy.

Dad

Give me a rating. One through five. You know what the poos mean.

Boldo

Four poos. I didn't want to admit this, but the thing actually works. The picture is clear. You can see what I'm doing when you're gone—which is mostly sleeping, by the way. The treat dispenser is decent when you remember to use it. It's not essential, but it's better than I expected. Don't make a big deal about it.