The Venn diagram intersection of “robotics enthusiast,” “bargain hunter,” and “connoisseur of the mildly deranged” is not, I’d wager, a large one. Yet, for those souls lucky enough to inhabit this digital niche, Temu’s latest foray into robot companions might have found its target. According to an in-depth and bewildered recounting in WIRED, you can now, for roughly the price of a Friday night in Portland (one beverage and a tip), bring home what can only be described as a fever-dream amalgam of Boston Dynamics, discount toy aisle, and carnival sideshow: a plastic, pellet-firing, story-telling robot attack dog. Did I mention it pretends to urinate? Because it does. It absolutely does.
Form Meets Function (and Then Trips Over It)
As detailed in WIRED’s account, the reviewer—seasoned by years of testing oddball gadgets—calls this dog “the strangest thing I’ve ever tested.” The packaging (“FIRE BULLETS PET”) presents Clippy, the robot dog, in a way not unlike the hopeful windows at a pet shelter—except this particular candidate looks more like a CCTV camera on uncertain legs, topped with a turret that gleams with both menace and plastic sheen.
Unboxing, as the outlet describes, reveals components so lightweight they inspire neither trust nor confidence. The remote, in particular, is said to feel almost helium-filled, while the main chassis, though heavier, stands on legs that recall the fragility of a nativity scene mule after one too many holidays in the attic. Is there a special joy in toys that seem to dare you to break them? Or is that just the nostalgia talking?
When it comes to actual operations, quirky doesn’t quite cut it. WIRED recounts how the “handstand” button delivers something between slapstick and existential comedy: Clippy faceplants, legs twitching in what can only be described as spectrum-adjacent scissor kicks. It’s less Boston Dynamics, more slapstick mime. Yet, bafflingly, Clippy survives each time and stands again—a tribute, perhaps, to the toy’s stubborn resilience rather than design competence.
Seventeen Dazzlingly Absurd Functions
As the outlet documents, value for money is certainly not lacking in breadth. Clippy comes with what’s advertised as no fewer than seventeen functions—though “function” here is deployed generously. The “kung fu” setting, for instance, eschews martial arts entirely and prefers to blare out poolside lounge music while Clippy wiggles. “Swimming” and “dance” elicit floor-humping routines that surpass the energy of many pop stars, but, crucially, the toy itself is not waterproof. The “push-up” button launches into “Eye of the Tiger,” helpfully ensuring you and your household both wince and smile in equal measure.
One can’t help lingering on the “urinate” feature. WIRED describes pressing the button: Clippy’s hind leg lifts, there’s cheerful whistling, and the unmistakable audio of liquid hitting a toilet bowl. The effect is as strange as it is gleeful. For those who worried, yes—this is a feature that comes as advertised.
Then there’s the storytelling. The reviewer shares a sample: a story delivered in a shrill, hard-to-understand voice, featuring a toothless old cat who can no longer catch mice—the moral, to respect our elders, is almost lost amidst a confusing haze of static and what’s described as an “Eric Cartman-like twang.” In another story, a pigeon might be involved, proof that, in the world of toy robot fiction, anything goes. Does narrative clarity count if you’re constantly being serenaded by toy speakers?
WIRED also notes that the app expands this chaotic experience. Should you decipher the settings and language menus, you’re rewarded with even more perplexing “foods” to “feed” Clippy—from the traditional bone to the less conventional “Nuclear Energy Source.” The app offers voice-command and programming modes as well, neither of which proved functional under review—though, to be fair, the dog’s penchant for faceplants during programmed routines is cited as something of a feature in itself. Is this a bug, or is this simply an avant-garde approach to interactive play?
Projectile Play and Thwarted Guard Dog Dreams
In a detail highlighted during WIRED’s testing, the back-mounted cannon promises high-drama with “water bombs”—the product page shows blue projectiles blasting forth. In execution, reality is more subdued: after hours soaking tiny blue water beads, they load into the turret only to dribble out, ketchup bottle-style, rather than fire. Even with repeated attempts, there’s little risk of collateral damage; the reviewer, in fact, tried to pierce a wet square of toilet paper and failed. Anyone envisioning a new era of home defense automation—or even a successful sibling ambush—might want to temper their expectations.
The Unlikely Joy of the Ridiculous
The outlet also notes that, for all his foibles and malfunctions, Clippy captivated a four-year-old tester throughout the review period. Mornings began with shrill stories, push-ups, and scattershot dance routines. If toys are—at least for a little while—meant to inspire laughter and a sense of “what in the world are we doing?” then Clippy, in all his flawed absurdity, seems to have hit the mark. Perhaps the greatest “feature” is this: even as a future resident of a thrift store shelf, the robot dog stands as a testament to the enduring appeal of unexpected oddities.
Earlier in the report, it’s mentioned that the reviewer expects Clippy will soon be replaced by the next shiny thing, moving from pride of place to the land of forgotten gadgets. Will someone else down the line find delight, or at least a raised eyebrow, at his nuclear-powered cuisine and his mechanical pratfalls?
Could we really expect anything more—or less—from the world of modern tech novelties? There’s a peculiar charm in a robotic dog whose most consistent moves are faceplanting and elaborate stories about elderly cats. What does this say about our appetite for the weird, the impractical, and the enthusiastically unnecessary? Maybe, sometimes, it’s not about utility at all—just the simple pleasure of being surprised.
Somewhere in the archives of modern amusements, Clippy is waiting for his next act. He may never master a handstand or become an effective guard dog, but in the great parade of odd gadgets, he’s undoubtedly earned his place.
