A small stand of the tropics, indoors.
Scratching, stretching and quiet play, gathered under one canopy.
A cat doesn't scratch to make trouble, though it can feel that way when it's your sofa arm underneath. It's ritual, not rebellion, and it wants a place of its own to land. The palm gathers three instincts into one: the long stretch and scratch through natural sisal, the idle swat at something swinging just overhead, and a ball to send rolling along the base when energy needs somewhere to go. Set low and finished like furniture rather than equipment, it earns its place in the room instead of just being tolerated in it.
