Previously Smokey has been a very good boy.  He's afraid that bad boys
have to live outside.  He never jumps on counters or the table or the
stove.

That has changed.  Smokey has taken to sitting pretty on a placemat on
our table,  and when we look at him, he looks back as though he is
doing nothing wrong.

Smokey has decided to take on a job as a table boy.

Apparently a table boy is like a crumb vaccuum, only living.
Apparently the table boy's job is to lick up all the crumbs and food
fragments on the tablecloth.  Apparently when not in use, a table boy
sits neatly and quietly on a placemat.  Apparently this is "being
good."

No, Smokey, it's not.

"C'mon Mom, y'know what they say:  nature whores a vaccuum..."

That's ABHORS, Smokey.

"Yeah, whores.  Anyway, so my nature is to be a whore for food so I'm
gonna sell my services as a table boy an' vaccuum up all the ham you
guys drop while you're eating.  An' that's like my payment, see.  An'
when I'm not cleaning the tablecloth, I'll sit here like a good boy."

Except good boys don't sit on the table.

"But I'm a table boy; it's my job."

We've had to deal with this all week.  We're getting the squirt bottle
back out tomorrow.

--Fil