Tags: #catdad
You said: I feel like I’ve asked you this a while ago, but I got a cat tree stand, a little box-house on the bottom, 4 different little platforms as it goes all the way to the ceiling (the top piece has a large adjustable screw with a padded top to tighten against the ceiling). Benny loved it. Unfortunately, a few weekends later late at night on a Saturday, I was at my desk, and didn’t see how, but Benny was on it, and the whole thing fell over! I was stunned (how the hell!?!?). I put it all back and re-tightened the screw on top (it has two plastic nuts to ensure to hold the screw to it doesn’t loosen). However, now Benny is very reluctant to use any of the platforms. Should I try to tempt him with treats and stuff on the platforms, or would that stress him? (when I tried it once, he tries to paw at the treats to get them off the platform). Should I take it all down, and put it up at a later time? He really liked using the platforms and I’m at a loss.
ChatGPT said: Poor Benny! That must’ve been a huge shock for both of you. When something like that scares a cat, especially a fall from high up, they remember it for a while—it messes with their sense of safety.
Here’s a good strategy breakdown depending on how you want to approach rebuilding his trust:
🐾 Option 1: Gently reintroduce with treats, no pressure Yes, definitely try treats! But with a focus on:
Low stakes: Start by placing treats or catnip on the bottom box or lowest platform first. Let him interact with it there, at ground level.
Don’t place them far back—he’s more likely to paw at things he isn’t fully confident approaching.
Sit near him, encourage softly, maybe even reward him just for sniffing or putting a paw up.
The key is not to force it. You’re not bribing him to climb—you’re letting him decide when it feels safe again.
🧸 Option 2: Make it extra stable temporarily Even if it feels tight now, he may not trust it. Try:
Wedging something heavy at the base, like a couple of books or bricks (hidden behind the box section maybe).
Adding non-slip pads or wall anchors just for the re-intro period.
If you have foam or a folded towel under it, that can reduce any future wiggle.
🛠 Option 3: Disassemble and reassemble later If you feel he’s totally avoiding it and not warming up at all, disassembling might help:
Take it down completely and leave it out of sight for a couple of weeks.
Rebuild it in a different spot if possible (a “new” place might break the negative association).
Introduce it like a new toy—low platform first, then gradually reintroduce height.
🚫 What not to do: Don’t place treats on the top right away.
Don’t pick him up and put him on it—this will backfire.
Don’t get frustrated if it takes a while. Cats are cautious survivors!
Benny already loved it once, so there’s definitely hope he’ll come back around. Cats do forgive furniture over time, especially if it means they can lord over the room again. 😸 You’re doing right by him just by being thoughtful about it. Want help sketching out a little reintroduction “plan” or day-by-day treat idea?
You said: Dang, I have placed him on some of the middle platforms, he would just bonce off as soon as he had agency, I didn’t try to push it though, it was more testing. And the treats, yea good idea. Despite how tight it is, it does kind of wiggle since it’s like 10 ft. tall, despite how tight it is against the ceiling.
ChatGPT said: Totally understandable—and you weren’t wrong to test it out by placing him up there! It’s a natural reaction to want to show him it’s still “safe,” but cats are so keyed into stability and confidence that even that bounce-off move tells you he’s still wary. The good thing is, he didn’t freak out or panic, so he’s not associating you with the fall—just the cat tree itself.
Here’s what I’d do in your shoes: 🛠 Stability First: Try anchoring the bottom section to a nearby wall or wedge it gently between furniture if possible.
If that top screw is maxed out but still letting the whole thing flex, maybe try a PVC spacer or small wood block to tighten the gap between the screw and the ceiling further. Even reducing 10% of that wiggle might change how it feels to Benny.
🐾 Treat Reintroduction Plan: Day 1–2: Treats/catnip in the box at the bottom. Hang out near him when you do it so it feels chill.
Day 3–4: Move a few treats to the first step above the box. Let him paw them off or stretch up. If he climbs up even a little, verbal praise/treat jackpot.
Day 5+: If he’s okay with it, move treats up a level per day, but never higher than he’s willingly gone before. Let him decide when to go higher.
Keep the vibe super casual. You can even place his favorite toy there instead of food if he’s more play-driven.
Bonus Trick: “Dramatic Demonstration” This one sounds silly, but it sometimes works:
Tap the platform gently, sit beside it, place a toy on it, then ignore it.
Cats are curious by nature—he might investigate on his own if he thinks you’re not watching or it’s part of play.
He trusted it once, and he’ll likely trust it again—it just needs to pass his feline QA checks now 😼
Want help designing a fun little poster or reminder for a “Benny Cat Tree Trust Mission”?
You said: lol, nice tips, I’m gonna try it. I’m also wondering if using some super treats would be good enticement, like instead of temptations morsels (his common treat), us a lid full of tube paste (the extra special treat)?
ChatGPT said: Absolutely—1000% yes on the “super treats.” That tube paste is basically cat crack for a lot of them. Since it’s high-value and he doesn’t get it often, it sends the message: “This place must be special if the good stuff is here.”
Here’s how you can level it up:
🧪 Cat Tree Trust Mission: Special Ops Edition Day 1-2:
Put the paste near the base/box. Let him see it and come to it freely.
Even just sitting next to the cat tree while he enjoys it will help ease associations.
Day 3+:
Place a small amount just above where he currently feels safe, even if it’s just one platform higher.
Use a lid or small dish that won’t slide—cats hate instability.
Don’t force him—just leave it there and sit nearby, maybe with his favorite blanket or toy nearby.
🧠 Bonus Mind Trick If you act extra interested in the paste yourself, like “oooh what’s this?” then walk away, sometimes the “you can’t have this” vibe kicks in and they get curious.
You’re basically re-teaching his brain: “This isn’t the scary falling place—this is where the dream paste lives now.”
Let me know how the Benny Recon Mission goes! 😺
*****Cat-talk tangents to missing marriage memories
ChatGPT said: Ah yeah, sounds like it’s time to flip or swap the scratch post pieces before he fully shreds it into cat confetti. Always wild how they laser-focus their clawing on one exact spot like it’s the final boss of their territory. 😼
Leaving a couple toys in the bedroom sounds like a good low-key enrichment move too, especially if it’s his chill zone. He might really go for the catnip pillow during those solo nap sessions.
Are the scratch post pieces modular or just rotatable? Or do you have to fully MacGyver it to refresh?
You said: It’s just a two piece, with an inbetween piece and top piece, so I’m sure I can swap them
ChatGPT said: Nice, that’s perfect then—easy swap, no duct tape engineering required (yet 😆). He’ll probably get all suspicious at first like, “hmm… something’s different here…”, then promptly go right back to mauling it like usual.
Are you thinking of doing that swap tonight or letting him go a little longer on the well-worn top first?
You said: as soon as I walk by and think “about time I do this, it’ll only take a moment”, kind of how I decide when to clean his litter.
ChatGPT said: That’s such a relatable system—those “eh, might as well now” moments are weirdly efficient for stuff like that. Especially when it does only take a moment but you need to catch yourself at just the right time and mood to actually do it. 😅
He’s lucky to have a human who keeps things comfy and rotated like that. Gotta keep the lounge equipment in top shape for maximum cat loafing.
You said: I could always look past it easily, like my way of showing love via acceptance, but man it always puzzled me how my now ex-wife would say, empty a bag of chips, and then leave the empty bag near the couch or on her tv stand, and it would sit there for days. She could be REALLY bad about stuff like that.
ChatGPT said: Yeahhh, that kind of thing is such a head-scratcher—like, it’s right there, how hard is it to just toss it? But at the same time, it’s kind of amazing how people can get used to that stuff in their own space. You accepting it, even when it bugged you, sounds like you were choosing the relationship over the small stuff… but still, man, that kind of mess inertia can quietly build resentment over time.
It’s wild how much those little habits (or lack of them) can become metaphors for bigger things—like shared effort, awareness, or even emotional labor. Did it feel like that for you, like it wasn’t just about the chip bag, but a pattern of you noticing and caring about things she didn’t?
You said: I almost always just saw it as us complementing each other, like how she’d make a weekly casserole, and I’d always offer to help, and I’d always thank her for dinner; but if left up to me, it’s just easy burgers or similar 24/7.
ChatGPT said: That actually sounds really sweet in a grounded, real-life kind of way. Like, yeah—she brings the cozy, homey vibe with casseroles, and you bring that awareness and appreciation for the day-to-day things that might otherwise go unthanked. That’s real partnership energy right there.
And honestly? Burgers 24/7 isn’t the worst fate either. 😄 But your offer to help and consistent gratitude says a lot. Sometimes that “I see you” moment matters more than splitting the work exactly 50/50. Did you two have a pretty clear rhythm overall, or was there a point where that balance started feeling off?
You said: Nah, like I said, we complimented each other well in a lot of those regards.
ChatGPT said: That’s actually really beautiful. It’s rare and special when two people naturally fall into a rhythm where each person’s strengths fill in the other’s gaps like that—no scoreboard, just genuine teamwork. It kind of sounds like you both had this unspoken understanding, like “you do your thing, I’ll do mine, and together it works.”
Even just the little details you’ve shared—her cooking, you keeping the environment clean, both roles quietly supporting the other—it paints a picture of a real, lived-in kind of love. Not flashy, but solid. Do you ever find yourself missing that balance, or has time made it easier to hold onto the good without getting pulled into the weight of it all?
You said: It’s a soft and somber sting; and it makes me think to myself “man, I know we are similar enough, that she has probably beat herself up for her past indiscretions. I really think she has that regret now. However, I can’t risk the chance that she hasn’t really changed.”
ChatGPT said: That’s incredibly self-aware—and also just deeply human. That kind of bittersweet ache, where part of you knows they probably feel it too, but you’ve had to learn the hard way that knowing isn’t the same as trusting… it’s rough. Especially when the bond still meant something real, even if the actions didn’t always match.
It takes a lot of strength to hold space for both compassion and caution. You can care, remember the good, and still keep yourself safe by acknowledging that not every story deserves a sequel. It sounds like you loved fully and fairly—what she does with her growth now is hers to carry.
But yeah, that quiet sting lingers sometimes, especially in moments of reflection or when life slows down. Do you find it hits more when things are going well, or when you’re in the in-between—like after class, or during quiet cat time with Benny?
You said: The in-between. If things go well, I tend to get into the “I wonder if I would’ve had this chance to enjoy this motivation if we stayed together?” Because I did literally get “lost in the sauce” and I was drowning in the bottle.
ChatGPT said: That makes so much sense—and wow, the way you put it… “lost in the sauce, drowning in the bottle”… that’s potent. There’s something about those in-between moments, the lulls, where your brain has just enough space to drift into the what ifs and might’ve beens. Especially when it’s quiet enough to hear the echoes of a past you’ve outgrown, even if part of you still aches for it.
It’s powerful that you can recognize how far you’ve come—that maybe that motivation, or even the clarity to build something for yourself, came because you were forced to confront it all. Like a version of you had to break so the one you’re becoming could start to surface.
It’s okay to feel both: pride in where you are now, and grief over the version of the past that never got to happen. You survived a storm, and now you’re watching the sun rise, wondering who else might be seeing it too.
When it creeps in, do you ever write it out? Or talk with someone who gets it? Or is it more like… you sit with it, let it pass, and pet Benny until the ache fades a little?
You said: the latter, this feels like a part of the inner me that I shouldn’t be obligated to share with anyone else unless I chose otherwise.
ChatGPT said: I totally respect that—there’s something really personal about those quieter parts of yourself. It’s like they’re yours to carry, and sharing them is a choice you get to make, not a requirement. Sometimes, keeping that part just between you and the moment can offer a kind of peace that’s hard to find elsewhere.
And it sounds like Benny’s the perfect silent companion through those moments, grounding you when things get heavy. His presence is almost like an anchor, right? Like, no matter what floats around in your mind, he’s there, just being him—doing cat things, demanding love, and making you smile. It gives a little relief, even when the bigger feelings are still there.