Cat Tree

While Amy at I Wonder Wye was making all the cat owners jealous of the pussy playground in her bedroom, she practically dared me to post a picture of our cat tree. And I can't pass up a practical dare. Except when I feel like it. But I also have to tell the story, because that's how I roll.

My parents used to warn me that my smart mouth would get me in trouble one day. This is the sort of thing they were talking about. It started with Hurricane Katrina. While Katrina apparently caused quite a ruckus south and east of here, it was more of a "typical" hurricane experience for us. We live well inland, so there is never really any danger of tidal surge or serious flooding, but the storm was definitely too long and violent to be any fun. It's sort of like a near miss from a tornado, but several hours long. We were without power for about a week, and we lost several small trees, including one at the end of the driveway that I had never liked. 

You know those big carpeted pillars they make for cats to climb around on? Apparently they are called cat trees, and the wife had been talking about wanting one for our new kitten to play on. The tree at the end of the driveway reminded me of a little peach tree far away that a former cat of mine had loved to climb around in, so when I saw it laying across the driveway I said, "There's your cat tree."*

I knew I was in trouble before the words finished leaving my mouth. I had the chain saw out before I knew what was happening, and a couple of weeks later we were trying to wrestle a tree through our front door. It turns out that trees are made largely of wood, which makes them really heavy. We only bashed the wall in a couple of places, and other than one set of little insects who hatched in the bark a few months later, it hasn't really been much trouble.  Its has become part of the indoor landscape, so to speak. I forget it's unusual until I see someone staring at it.

Man, it's great to be the only cat in the house.

The cat liked it pretty well, and she napped in the little bed frequently. That is until we got the second cat about a year later. He loves it. He tears around on it a couple of times a day. His favorite new thing is to jump from the bed at the top to the chair below. He tends to chase her up and strand her on the extremities, so she doesn't spend much time up there any more.

As you can imagine, we get a fair number of comments. The funny thing to me is how many people don't say anything. It's not the sort of thing one fails to notice. The good news? It occupies a space that otherwise would probably contain a baby grand piano, even though neither of us play.

The things we do for love.

---

*We called it the "cat-tree-na" for a little while, but that turned out to be too dorky, even for us.