It's a naff lesbian cliché to compare having cats to having
children (and vice versa), but I'm going to do it anyway, so stand
by.
In the same way the previously tidy and tastefully-furnished
homes of people with kids are soon taken over by unsightly piles of
Fisher-Price and Playmobil, the homes of people with kits are
inevitably cluttered with similar unattractive knick-knacks and
ugly pieces of feline furniture, such as scratching posts and
faux-fur igloos.
My own cat, Little My, is the owner of many such items, most of
which she no longer cares for. Indeed, she has rejected not one but
two scratching-posts, both of which I keep around in the hope that
she may rediscover the lurvve, even though she has transferred her
attentions to my once-gorgeous Habitat laundry basket, and is
ruining it.
So I am excited by the arrival of the Luckies' Cats Attack
cardboard scratching-post in the DIVA office. "I'll have it!" I
shout quickly in case any of my cat-free colleagues might elect to
take it home and test it themselves.
Back at the ranch, I unpack it eagerly in the company of Little
My and my flatmate. It is as easy to assemble as advertised - the
base jigsaws together leaving an oblong space into which you slot
the three upright pieces, which are designed to evoke towerblocks.
The visual joke is that when kitty rears up and sinks her eager
claws into the towers, she resembles the rampaging King Kong.
LOL!
Little My watches curiously as the towers go up but drifts away
as soon as the project is completed. No amount of scratching at it
ourselves can convince her to give it a go, but the instructions
suggest a sprinkling of catnip to pique her interest.
Little My's only genuinely-prized possession is a well-chewed
sock filled with my friend Mr Chops' patent blend of catnip and
secret herbs. Three years old, it stinks like a dead thing and
lives in a special tin to avoid offending visitors.
I take the reeky sock out of its canister and rub it liberally
all over the towers.
Enter Little My. The towers have taken on a compelling allure
since the application of the sock and she trots towards them with
excitement. But no scratching ensues. Instead of the amusing
spectacle of a feline assault on New York, we are treated to a
near-pornographic love-fest as My enthusiastically nuzzles the
towers and wriggles seductively around the base. It's not what we
expected but it's quite funny to watch.
Eventually she's exhausted and retires to the pouffe for a
lengthy snooze.
The great thing about the Cats Attack scratching-post is that it
packs neatly back into its box, so that unlike other cat-furniture
you don't have to accommodate it permanently into your living space
if you don't want to.
Every so often, I unpack it, give it a rub with the sock and
watch Kitty King Kong hump it for a while. Maybe one day she'll
fancy a bit of S/M. My laundry basket's depending on it.
Luckies Cats Attack scratching post costs £19.95
from www.luckies.co.uk
