The New Cat Tree

A giant box arrived today. I claimed it immediately, before anyone even knew what was inside. Box is box, and box belongs to me — that’s a basic rule of the universe nobody should question.

Then the box got opened, and my human spent hours with screws, a strange little wrench thing, and far too much sighing, building something that eventually looked like a tower. Sisal, platforms, a little house on top. I watched the entire procedure from a safe distance, wearing the expression I reserve specifically for “unimpressed.”

Once the tower finally stood there, I ignored it. On principle. You can’t just plant a new piece of furniture in my territory and expect instant enthusiasm. That would mean my human got it right on the first try, and I’m not handing over that satisfaction so easily.

Instead, I sat pointedly on the rattan table, my usual observation post, and studied the tower from there with visible disdain. It just stood there. Waiting. Very patiently, I’ll admit.

By evening, when no one was watching, I wandered closer. Purely to check whether the sisal was even of acceptable quality. Strictly professional curiosity. One quick claw test on the bottom step, nothing more.

The sisal held up. It actually felt pretty great under the claws, that particular resistance that’s different from the wallpaper I usually work on and get regularly scolded for, which I consider unfair, since the wallpaper was there first, technically.

After the first claw test, I climbed one level higher. Then another. Up top, in the little house, it smelled like fresh sisal and a little bit like cardboard, my second great love. From up there I could see the entire living room from a completely new angle: the rattan table, the windowsill, the hallway where I hold my nightly zoomies. A strategically excellent spot, I had to admit, though I wouldn’t say that out loud to anyone.

I stayed up there while my human cleaned up the packaging. He glanced up briefly, with that smile humans apparently get automatically when they think they did something right. I said nothing. Some victories don’t need to be confirmed out loud to the other party.

Now, just a few hours later, I’ll admit it: the tower is good. Not that I’d say that to the cardboard box, which is now lying next to the tower making its own claims. There’s a bit of rivalry between the two of them for my attention these days, which I resolve with great composure by simply using both, whenever it suits me.

The rattan table naturally remains my headquarters. But the new tower has definitely earned a permanent spot in my rotation, right next to the windowsill and just ahead of the hallway, which has become temporarily a bit tight due to ongoing construction — namely, the tower being in the way.

Kylo’s wisdom for the day: skepticism costs nothing, but a good sisal offer deserves a fair chance in the end.