Wrap steel wool around your torso, throw in some kibble, and go to your Halloween party as a cat puke.

…it’s falling apart, but they love it. It’s the feline equivalent of Martin Crane’s favorite armchair (for you Frazier fans), and it makes me think of an old car up on blocks in a redneck’s driveway.
But “this old scratching house” was given to me by a dear friend when her last cat died. It’s been enjoyed and scratched to pieces by kitties who were young when I first brought it home and who grew old and have passed on. And now yet another generation of cats are scratching it, hiding in it, and climbing on it.
I’m guessing it will be a fixture in my office room until the last fiber of carpet is clawed off.