This cat tree is the feline equivalent of a rough roadside motel: questionably constructed and borderline functional. For us, it quickly because an infamous, impossible to get rid of living room landmark. The fabric is the kind of thin mystery stuff that makes you wonder what didnโt make the cut at the factory. The plastic scratching post is apparently too hard or scary for my cat to risk a single whisker. The u-shaped lounger in the middle is too small, low, and weak for any (adult) cat with meat on its bones to enjoy. And the rope? Simply a disgrace, according to my little scratching connoisseur. In like a year and a half, I think heโs only once dared to inspect the rope. He gave it a sniff and a side eye and never looked back. And yetโฆ every few months, just when Iโm considering tossing it, that little stinker makes some big show of climbing on top and laying down like itโs his only escape from his long, hard day. He has to be messing with me at this point. (And to be clear, my little guy goes nuts scratching, climbing, and chillaxing in his other cat tree.) So here it stays: wobbly, unscratched, unloved, yet weirdly protected. Please donโt make my mistake. Donโt give your cat the chance to enter a cold, disaffection, detached relationship with this sad little cat tree.
