Longtime readers of DWH know that I am most certainly a cat person. However, the recent adoption of a particularly curious and persistent kitten has made gaming a bit more... difficult.
In the past, my cats always went after stuff on screen. Indy ruined the “Licker smashing through two-way mirror” scene in Resident Evil 2 by immediately throwing himself at the TV. Belloq did everything in his power to murder Navi when I played Ocarina Of Time. (I wish he could have.) And Short Round was a bigger threat to Frank West’s survival than any zombie or psychopath could hope to be.
It turns out Momiji (we abandoned the Indiana Jones scheme) goes after tangibles, having started with the apparently very tasty cord of an Xbox 360 headset. When this happened, I picked him up and set him on the pillow on the other side of the couch. Minutes later he was crawling on my shoulder, going after the foam ball at the end of the mic.
A wireless headset solved the problem at first, but like a true boss monster… He just kept coming back.
I WANT THAT FLASH DRIVE. No. I WANT THAT CHARGE CABLE. No. I WANT THAT WRIST STRAP. No. I WANT THE FLASHING LIGHT ON THAT BOX. No. I WANT TO GO BEHIND THE FURNITURE WITH ALL THE SHINY THINGS ON IT.
Oh, HELL no. That was the last straw.
Using two empty console boxes (yes, I keep them), I built a mighty barrier in the corner to block his path to a promised land filled with wires to bite and air vents to clog with bright orange fur. That worked until he learned he could jump on my mighty barrier.
I created a floor trap using duct tape, sticky side up. A kitten would never leap from such a strange and unpleasant surface. Surely he would leave the entertainment center realm forever. This worked until he figured out he could hop on the windowsill at the other end of the room and make his way from sill to sill, completely bypassing the terrifying tape trap and mighty box barrier. Clever, this one.
The whole structure underwent a redesign, combining two console boxes, a shoe box and two office-moving boxes, to form a five-foot tower of impenetrable, kitten-proof protection. Now my orange kitten was a furry little Gordon Freeman facing a cardboard Citadel.
Only this time, Freeman lost.
And decided to simply start gnawing on my arm instead.
Check out the page and read, or be stupid.