CATS CAN’T TALK, but it turns out they are great interaction designers.
I’ve been laid up with a hernia and bronchitis and I’ve let a few chores go. Such as prompt daily cleaning of the litter box shared by my cats, Snow White and Giovanni.
This morning they found a way to catapult the litter box rake right into the box. Handle first, mind you — leaving the part I touch three inches deep in the very filth I’d neglected to clean. Punishment as well as instruction.
I can play scales; my cats cannot. I can spend time with Gandalf and Oliver Twist; my cats cannot. On those scales I am the superior being.
But I would give ten years and a pinky to create interfaces that are half as clear as the one my cats designed for me this morning.
