I can't even begin to tell you how many times my Counter-Strike team has lost an important game because, inevitably, someone refuses to allow me to lick the lucky kitty beforehand.

I don't ask for much. I can play with any mouse, so long as it has three buttons. I can even play on those little mice with wheels. I can play on an ergonomic keyboard, or a regular keyboard. I don't care how big my monitor is. But please, for the sake of the fair competitive spirit ... please, please let me lick the lucky kitty.

One time my team signed up for a genuine professional tournament. I was nervous, because the event was to be held on a LAN far away, and the lucky kitty had never done much travel. I also wasn't sure how the tournament officials would feel about the kitty-lick, since -- for reasons I don't understand -- that sort of thing really freaks people out sometimes.

So, quietly, I packed kitty in a black pet-carrier with mesh sides that looked as much like an ordinary duffel bag as possible. At the event, the lights were bright and the music loud -- my stomach was in knots. The competition was tough. Without the lucky kitty we had no hope.

My mistake came when I went in search of network cable and left kitty's carrier alone under the table next to my PC. I was only gone about ten minutes. I should've known better.

At last, our first match was announced. We stood up in our seats and shook hands with the other team. "Match begins in ten seconds!" the announcer told us. "Hang on!" I cried. I bent over and unzipped the case, withdrawing our secret weapon. It was too late to stop me now!

I quivered in ecstacy as I got a mouthfull of that lucky, lucky fur. Oh kitty. Oh good good kitty. When I opened my eyes everyone was staring at me in shock, except for the other team, who high-fived each other and whooped in glee. Then with horror I realized what they'd done.

"THIS IS NOT MY LUCKY KITTY!" I cried. But it was too late.