Truly, Whitey has mastered the art of looking like he belongs where he doesn't. Yes, that pepper mill means it's the dining room table again; this time he's enjoying Katherine's placemat. (Last time he was across the table on my placemat.)
No doubt the lesson the Mist of Doom taught him was diluted by my stopping to take the picture, but oh well. He was too darn cute and comfortable.
His brother, it should be noted, was asleep on the wicker seat of my dining room chair. The chair and brother were both properly tucked under the table in approved fashion.
His cousin(?) Millie has been found on the dining room table more than once. If they'd ever met, you could accuse her of giving him the idea.
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