As soon as the new cat tree is in its spot in the corner, the cats are checking it out. Wallace, the more intrepid of the two, grapples her way to the top with a grim resolve, while Davis sniffs tentatively at the base and lets her sister do reconnaissance. As their bravery increases, they slink between levels with athletic grace and occasional stubbornness, fighting small feuds with one another, parkouring to seemingly unattainable perches, and attacking the scratching posts with savage ferocity.
It takes us a good hour to get the thing fixed up so that it's stable and won’t fall to rubble under their delicate ministrations, and as I watch them finally sleep at the top, Davis slit-eyed and content, Wallace crashed out in oblivion, I find myself thinking about how Dad would put together my toys for me on Christmas, and if the singing in my heart is any indication of how he felt, I get why he tried so hard for me.
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