Never Leave A Soup Bowl Unattended

Clinkety..clink, clink...silence.....clinkety clink. I stop typing in the den. The noise stops. I start writing again, there it is again! Clink, scrape, clink... What is that sound coming from the living room?!? Tin-ier than the ping of the electric heater (yes, I still have the heat on), clearer than the muffled neighbors.... It's Ruby, standing on top of the end table, licking the last drops of Southwest Corn Chowder at the bottom of my bowl and moving the pesky spoon out of the way. Or more accurately, it WAS Ruby, because now my dinner is gone and she's standing very still on top of my furniture, in the firm belief that if she doesn't move, I can't see her.