Belle, like many cats, likes to jump on things and be as big a nuisance as possible. She knows she can get away with it as she is fuzzy and adorable. The funny thing is that the only time she ever jumps on my computer desk is when I am playing WoW. I don't know how she knows, but she just does. I will venture once more into the world of Azeroth, dead-set on getting that one piece of gear I really, really need for my Death Knight and all of a sudden...
...cat. On the desk. Standing in front of the monitor and blocking my view. All I hear from my headphones are the sound of things hitting me and the odd, echoing yelps of my undead spacegoat. All anyone else in the room hears is me going "Ffffff Belle get down! Belle no! Bad cat! Come on Belle, get down. Get down. Get down!" and her meowing. This will eventually result in me just picking her up and putting her on the floor, followed by her jumping back on the desk.
Again. And again. And again.
Sooner or later, the furry little tyrant will take pity on me. "Pity" in her case means merely laying across the desk instead of standing on it. So, I will be able to see most of the screen, but not my skills at the bottom. Her back end is also always perfectly placed to prevent me from moving my mouse. Most people would probably think she's watching the game, but no. She's often looking up or back at me, staring at me with a cute little face as if to say "Hahaha, I am impeding your ability to play, and there is nothing you can do about it."
Treats, petting, and catnip only amuse her for so long before she once again returns to the desk, determined to hinder me in any way possible. If she wants to be exceptionally mean, she will wait until I'm in the middle of a dungeon, preferably during a tough boss fight, and then jump back in my way. Nothing like having to explain to the other four members of a party that the wipe or near-wipe we just had was caused by my cat's bad timing.
And sometimes she'll just go to the computer plug and rub her head against it until it comes loose, shutting the machine down entirely. She's done the same thing to the cords for the Wii and the PS3.
If she senses I'm getting annoyed with her, she'll go sit on the kitchen table and meow pitifully at the ceiling, as if to say "Meow meow. Oh I am so lonely. I am fuzzy and adorable, yet nobody will play with me. Oh why, oh why won't my human play with me and not that noisy tappy thing? Meow meow." This always works, and she knows it.
Right now, as I'm writing this, she's fast asleep on the loveseat. Or at least, she'd like me to think so. If I know Belle, she's waiting. Waiting for me to log on, just to do a few dungeons or level an alt. Just for a little bit. She'll give me a few minutes, just to lull me into a false sense of security. But soon enough, there she'll be once more, the fuzzy, adorable impediment to all game-related activities.
Again. And again. And again.
Sooner or later, the furry little tyrant will take pity on me. "Pity" in her case means merely laying across the desk instead of standing on it. So, I will be able to see most of the screen, but not my skills at the bottom. Her back end is also always perfectly placed to prevent me from moving my mouse. Most people would probably think she's watching the game, but no. She's often looking up or back at me, staring at me with a cute little face as if to say "Hahaha, I am impeding your ability to play, and there is nothing you can do about it."
Treats, petting, and catnip only amuse her for so long before she once again returns to the desk, determined to hinder me in any way possible. If she wants to be exceptionally mean, she will wait until I'm in the middle of a dungeon, preferably during a tough boss fight, and then jump back in my way. Nothing like having to explain to the other four members of a party that the wipe or near-wipe we just had was caused by my cat's bad timing.
And sometimes she'll just go to the computer plug and rub her head against it until it comes loose, shutting the machine down entirely. She's done the same thing to the cords for the Wii and the PS3.
If she senses I'm getting annoyed with her, she'll go sit on the kitchen table and meow pitifully at the ceiling, as if to say "Meow meow. Oh I am so lonely. I am fuzzy and adorable, yet nobody will play with me. Oh why, oh why won't my human play with me and not that noisy tappy thing? Meow meow." This always works, and she knows it.
Right now, as I'm writing this, she's fast asleep on the loveseat. Or at least, she'd like me to think so. If I know Belle, she's waiting. Waiting for me to log on, just to do a few dungeons or level an alt. Just for a little bit. She'll give me a few minutes, just to lull me into a false sense of security. But soon enough, there she'll be once more, the fuzzy, adorable impediment to all game-related activities.
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