You know, I wasnât going to write a review today. I was actually folding laundryâsocks, mainly, because who actually folds fitted sheets? Psychopaths, thatâs who. But then my neighborâs cat, Mr. Whiskersâbless his little judgmental faceâstared at me through the window while I was bent over, and I thought, "What if I were the cat?" Thatâs how I ended up with the Outdoor Cat Enclosures from the LUCKITTY Store on Amazon for $8.99. Yes, I know itâs for cats. But Iâm a human with ambition and poor impulse control. Let me tell you, this is not a product designed for the human anatomy. I donât care what the "furbo cat tunnel review" bloggers sayâtheyâre liars.
So there I am, on my back porch, thinking Iâm going to be the first person to pioneer a new trend: the human-occupied cat enclosure. I figured, "Itâs nylon mesh, itâs zippered, itâs basically a tiny tent for a feline. How bad could it be for a human?" Bad. The answer is bad. I tried to wedge my lower half into the thing, and let me just say: this isnât a "rectal use furbo cat tunnel" situation unless youâve got a cat skeleton. I felt like a hot dog being pushed into a drinking straw. My kneecaps are still bruised.
But hereâs where it gets weird. The mesh material? Surprisingly grippy. Not in a comfortable wayâmore like "oh god, Iâm trapped in a cheese grater made of nylon" way. The zipper is a crapshoot too. I got it halfway up before it snagged on my shorts, and I thought, "Maybe this is what cats feel like when they hate you." I am now fully convinced that "trying this was a mistake furbo cat tunnel" should be engraved on my tombstone. If youâre searching for a "Furbo Cat Tunnel amazon" link, go aheadâbut know that itâs a lie wrapped in fiber.
Honestly, the only rectal use here is the sensation of questioning your life choices as you stare at a $8.99 piece of fabric thatâs now stuck to your backside. Iâd give it a solid "try if you hate yourself" endorsement. My neighborâs cat wonât look at me anymore. I think I ruined his secret spot.
