Well, it's finally happened. At long last I've devolved or, perhaps, succumbed to making my contribution to the One True Purpose of the Internet.

You know. Cats.

What did you think I was going to suggest?

Verily, the CIVIVI Purr has a certain design philosophy. A multitude of variants are available, although alas none of them fully match the colorways of any of my household's furry tripping hazards. Since you can't have everything, I went with this grey and white number. In addition to the obvious, it doesn't half look like a certain someone, doesn't it? That certainly helped my decision.

Just look at him face. It's got two front kickers for ears, the eyes are a pair of Torx screws, and it's even complete with a tail made of accessory cord. The tail could even be unwound into a lanyard, but it's just so twee as it is that I can't bring myself to do it. And not least of which because then I'd have to learn how to tie it up like that again.

The CIVIVI Purr has precisely two buyers, to wit: Complete and utter dweebs like me, and men (universally men) who are hoping to get their girlfriends, wives, or sundry significant others into knives. Thus I suspect this is aiming to be a "friendly" pocketknife, and in addition to the cutesy aesthetic also offers simplified operation without any locks or latches and a much easier opening action than, say, your garden variety Swiss Army Knife.

It's quite diminutive. By my measure it's basically exactly 4-5/8" long open (117.5mm) and the blade is a mere 1-13/16" (46mm). Its footprint isn't that much bigger than the obligatory Swiss Classic and while it doesn't offer scissors or a nail file, it certainly does offer a lot more knife. The blade is only 0.098" thick or 2.5mm and is flat ground for much of its length. The edge just barely hangs down below the bottom of the handle so you can get all but the tiniest bit of it against a flat surface if you have to. The total weight is a mere yet suspiciously exact 1.5 ounces or 42.4 grams including the lanyard.

Two other things the Purr offers are real-deal scales with at least some modicum of grip texture and concession to ergonomics thanks to the scallops in the edges, and...

...An honest to goodness pocket clip, which is certainly a rarity with this kind of thing. It's even reversible, slotting into a pair of channels on either side of the scales in a very Spyderco-esque fashion with a single central screw.

CIVIVI certainly could have phoned this entire thing in and probably gotten away with it. But they didn't, somehow and this makes me highly suspicious. This kind of cutesy micro-knife is normally supposed to be a mere novelty, the kind of token stocking stuffer that doesn't have to be undertaken seriously because nobody is intended to take it seriously in the first place. There it will languish at the bottom of her stationery drawer for all eternity, except in the case of the Purr it probably shouldn't because it's actually remarkably competent.

It's even made of a real steel. Nitro-V is not too far away from 14C28N in the grand scheme of things and possesses far more toughness than this tiny little thing has any business needing. In any world where anybody more cynical than CIVIVI made this thing it'd surely be hewn out of some low-rent junk like 3cr or 420A or something. It's positively baffling, but I'm not complaining.

It's a slip joint folder. You won't find a back lock or a liner lock, because there isn't a lock at all. It does click positively into either of its positions with a pair of ball detents, though. Opening and closing it ought to be perfectly intuitive for just about anybody, and the lack of a liner lock removes the evergreen temptation to have your fingers between the blade and the handle while you struggle with closing it, neatly obviating that whole chestnut.

This also has the side effect of leaving the Purr with absolutely zero tactical appeal. I suggest that's the entire point, really.

The blade's got this vaguely triangular drop pointed profile with jimping all up and down the back of it. It's got a nice satiny finish and is deceptively sharp out of the box.

Opening it feels slick, and you can use either of the ears to do so. I prefer the rearward one, personally. The detents are pretty strong but once you overcome them the blade flies open with a satisfying click. The only complaint I really have is that given that the thing is completely outwardly symmetrical it's not exactly intuitive to figure out which side you ought to open it from. You can tell if you look at it hard but there's not much indicator if you're going by feel. Your best bet is to remember which way it goes relative to the clip.

The Purr also comes with a ludicrous array of feelies. You get a hugely superfluous fleece lined zipper pouch that's about nine times larger than it needs to be, several bits of promotional bumf, a microfiber cleaning cloth, and I was pleased to discover that the knife shaped card in there is actually a sticker.

I know there are a select two or three of you, and you know who you are, who have been perched on the edge of your computer chairs for the last five minutes wondering when I'm finally going to get around to revealing just how the Purr works mechanically. Because charming though they may be, it's obvious to anyone paying attention that those neither of those cat's-eye screws could possibly be where the pivot is.

And you're right, they aren't.

Popping the scales off requires nothing more than undoing those two plus the tail screw on whichever side, optionally dropping the clip off in the process as well. They're all T8 Torx heads. The actual pivot screw is concealed beneath, right in the center.

This reveals the detent action, which obviously isn't the traditional slip joint arrangement because the Purr hasn't got any kind of backspacer. You'll also notice that the detent balls are ceramic. Swanky.

What's also ceramic are the Purr's tiny ball bearings, which are a luxury that have absolutely no business being in here. And yet, here they are anyway. This goes some way towards explaining the pivot action. I'm down for it.

It turns out there's a detent in both sides of the liners. The endstop is provided by a captive pin which is hidden in a channel in the blade.

It is at this juncture I must regretfully advise you that the above spread of parts is minus the Purr's swanky machined tail spacer, into which the clip is screwed. This is because I completely forgot to transfer it from my parts tray to the photo booth.

By way of apology please accept this macro shot of the same, which I took upon discovery of my blunder when reassembling the knife. It is with a heavy heart that I tell you I could not, alas, be bothered to take it all apart again just to rearrange that photo.

Beets dubs, the inner faces of the scales also make a face at you. It's either very surprised, or possibly a Sniffit.

The Inevitable Conclusion

Among the Purr's pack-ins you also get what would normally be the perfunctory instructions leaflet that always comes with this sort of thing. Don't use this as a screwdriver, don't use it to pry the lid off of a coffin, don't bury it in your front yard or stick it in your dishwasher or drop it in the ocean. You know how it is.

Well, no. I submit to you that in fact CIVIVI know exactly how it is. I have never in all my years seen a mere piece of instructional literature hit the nail on the head so square.

This is threatening to launch me on my usual rant about knives and their role in society, one that I'm sure I've inflicted upon all of you in this very space many times in the past. I would do so while swirling the brandy around in my glass and gesticulating pointedly with my pipe now and again, if I had either a brandy glass or a pipe.

The rarely spoken out loud but pervasive notion that you must be kind of a nut if you carry a knife on a daily basis is stupid. And anyone who thinks that way is stupid, too. You can tell them I said so.

Everyone should have a knife. It doesn't have to be some kind of Tacticool Serrated Taliban Skewer XRZ-9000. It really doesn't — I think the Purr proves this perfectly. It's time we as a society were less down on mankind's second oldest tool. Cut the little knife a break. There is absolutely no need to freak out if someone shows up with a sub 2" cat shaped pocketknife at the office as if they'd just unlatched their briefcase over the conference room table and out thudded nine pounds of enriched plutonium.

Relax. It'll be okay, trust me.

In fact, in every social circle I've traveled in it's always amused me how the cycle so quickly and reliably progresses from, "I can't believe you carry that thing around with you, how could you possibly need that?" To, "Do you have your knife on you today?" And inevitably, "Hey, can I borrow your knife for a sec?"

The ideal end to that trail of conversation is, of course, "So, you're a knife guy. What first knife do you think I should buy?"

Right now at this exact second, it feels like this one might be the right answer.