Big Cats Need Different Cat Trees: What My Maine Coon Taught Me
The moment my cat collapsed the cat tree, I finally admitted: big cats really aren't raised the same way as regular cats.
"Did your apartment just explode?"
That night, my friend happened to be at my place.
We were sitting on the sofa eating takeout.
Leonard slowly stood up from the window, stretched lazily, and then prepared to leap onto the top of the cat tree.
The next second.
"Click."
That voice was particularly soft.
So light that you don't even have time to react.
Then the entire cat tree began to slowly tilt.
My friend nearly spat out the Coke in his mouth.
Leonard remained remarkably calm.
It didn't even panic.
Like it had done this before.
Before the cat tree completely collapsed, it leapt lightly back to the ground and then glanced at me once.
That look was strikingly similar to:
"Did you even read the reviews before buying this thing?"
My friend burst into laughter on the spot.
And I sat beside a pile of broken planks and hemp ropes, for the first time truly realizing:
Raising big cats means you really can't buy things based on "kitten logic" anymore.
Many people have no idea just how "big" big cats actually are.
Before I raised a Maine Coon, I always thought:
Well, cats.
How heavy can it be.
When Leonard was one and a half years old, I took him to the hospital for a checkup.
The doctor finished weighing me and looked up at me:
He's basically the size of a small dog now.
I still thought it was exaggerated at the time.
Later, I gradually realized that it wasn't exaggerated at all.
Especially at midnight.
When it jumped off the foot of the bed, the noise was just like someone throwing a sack of rice onto the floor.
Many so-called "large cat approved" cat trees online are, to be honest, really half-hearted.
The photo looks pretty intimidating.
Upon actually arriving home:
The platform is as small as a breakfast tray;
the posts are as thin as pencils;
and the base is the most outrageous of all.
So light I'm afraid.
Once Leonard had just jumped on, the entire shelf began to sway from side to side.
We both just froze for a second.
That scene was particularly similar to:
A person and a cat, both realizing this thing might not last long.
I used to love buying cheap cat trees
but later realized they're really cheap—and really flimsy.
I once had a particularly mistaken idea:
It's just a cat sleeping, how could it possibly be different?
Later, I calculated it.
After several years, the money I've spent on broken cat trees adds up to enough to buy a truly reliable one.
The most devastating part is:
The cat still doesn't like to use it.
Leonard once had a particular fondness for sleeping in cardboard boxes.
Not joking.
I spent hundreds of dollars on a cat tree, and it didn't even glance at it.
The result is an Amazon delivery box, which can keep you occupied for an entire afternoon.
Later, I finally understood.
Cats don't care how much you spend.
It only cares about:
Is it comfortable or not?
Stable or not.
Safe or not safe.
Especially big cats.
They are particularly sensitive to stability.
Once I finally understood why Leonard didn't like the old cat tree.
It was the early hours of the morning.
I got up to drink water.
Found it sitting beside the old cat tree, never climbing up.
I was still puzzled at the time.
Later, I gently pushed it with my hand.
That shelf actually wobbles.
Just like that:
It can keep swaying two more times on its own once you touch it.
I instantly understood.
For a cat weighing nearly 20 pounds, this thing offers absolutely no sense of security.
Think about it.
Would you be willing to sleep every night in a high chair that gently sways?
Leonard is not happy about it anyway.
Since then, it would rather sleep in the washing machine.
Later, I started seriously researching cat trees for big cats
and realized that most people were actually buying in the wrong direction.
I used to be very superficial when choosing cat trees.
Look:
Is it beautiful?
Does it have many floors?
Does it have a hanging ball?
Is it cheap?
Later it turned out.
These are not even a concern for big cats.
What truly matters is:
Steady.
The platform is large.
The grip is high enough.
Everything else is secondary.
Especially the platform.
Many products state "suitable for large cats."
The platform turned out to be smaller than a pizza.
Leonard plopped down, legs dangling freely.
Like a melting pile of fur.
My friend laughed so hard the first time he saw it.
He said:
Your cat sleeps like a liquid.
Stable. Spacious. Made for big cats like yours.
→ Shop Sturdy Cat Trees Now
Nowadays, many cat owners in American apartments are increasingly favoring wooden cat trees—and for good reason.
I used to really dislike wooden cat trees.
Always feels too "Instagrammable."
Something that's only suitable for taking photos, not for actually raising a cat.
Later, when I actually used it.
I can only say:
It used to be that I was stubborn.
The biggest difference with wooden structures is:
Much more stable.
Especially when the big cat jumps up, the difference becomes particularly obvious.
In the past, whenever Leonard jumped, I would instinctively look up.
Because I'm always afraid of hearing it again the next second:
"Click."
Now that modern wooden cat tree is so sturdy—it can be jostled around without the whole structure wobbling much.
That sense of security felt especially real.
And there's also a very practical issue.
Traditional velvet cat trees really get dirty very easily.
People who keep long-haired cats should know.
Cat hair everywhere:
Stuck in the velvet
Clung to the edges
Accumulating thicker and thicker
In the end, the entire cat tree will have a kind of:
The fatigue of having been used for eight hundred years.
After switching to a wooden cat tree, it looks much neater at least visually.
The vacuum cleaner leaves it basically clean.
This will truly enhance life satisfaction.
Leonard's favorite spot these days is the top of the cat tree
like a retired old man.
It is now very stable with a fixed daily routine.
Sunbathe in the morning.
Looked out the window in the afternoon.
Sitting on a high place at night, lost in thought.
Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, and it's still sitting there watching the traffic flow below the building.
He always looks unusually serious.
Like he's worried about paying rent.
I used to think cat trees were just pet accessories.
Later it turned out that it actually had a significant impact on the cat's condition.
Especially indoor cats.
Big cats are naturally very active.
If there's no space at home for them to climb, jump, and explore, they'll really get bored to the point of going crazy.
And the cat gets bored.
The victims are usually:
your sofa;
your ankles;
and you at two in the morning.
Leonard used to love sprinting late at night.
Now it spends most of its time curled up in its high, secluded spot.
Clearly much quieter.
Later, my friend asked me: What kind of cat tree is actually suitable for big cats?
I said it's very simple.
Don't look at the ads.
Just imagine one thing:
Would this thing wobble if a cat weighing nearly 20 pounds jumped on it at full speed?
If the answer is:
"Maybe."
That's basically out of the question.
There is one more point that is particularly important.
Don't buy the ones with such a small platform.
Big cats really do stretch out like a blanket when they sleep.
Especially Maine Coons.
After falling asleep, Leonard often resembles a melting piece of butter.
Half of the body hanging outside.
It's exhausting just to look at it.
I later studied quite a few brands.
including modern cat trees like Mewzoom, which many cat owners in the U.S. now watch.
I've noticed that people's approach to choosing a cat tree has actually changed.
Previously it was:
The more complex, the more advanced.
Now more people care about:
Do cats actually need it?
Is it stable enough?
Can it be cleaned easily?
Will it look too ugly in the house?
Can large cats really be comfortable on it?
Because in the end you'll find out.
Cats are remarkably honest.
It doesn't like it.
It doesn't matter how expensive you buy it.
It went back to sleep in the cardboard box.