Clover always keeps her eye on my dinner, most of the time from a good distance. I have never fed her table scraps and she knows that the food on the plate is mine and the food in the bowl on the floor is hers.
I had prepared a bowl of pasta with meat sauce, poured myself a rather nice glass of Chianti, and carried it into the living room on a tray. Placed the tray on the coffee table so I could eat and enjoy the evening news at the same time. I realized I needed the salt and pepper shakers. I was gone from the living room about 30 seconds which was just long enough for Clover to get up on the table and completely empty the wine glass. Leave the pasta, take the wine!
Another call to the vets. Orla told me to keep an eye on her, but that she should be ok. Clover? She snored like an old man all night long and looked a little cross-eyed the next morning.