Ham Defense Protocol

I smelled ham, which immediately mobilized all four of my paws for an emergency inspection. Up on the dining chair, my nose confirmed the jackpot: a glass container right on the tabletop, sealed tighter than a bank vault. I gave the snap lid two solid whacks, but it refused to budge. Breaking and entering requires cardio, and frankly, I don't do cardio after noon. So I dragged a linen placemat over and curled up right beside the glass. If I can't eat the ham yet, nobody else gets to touch it either. Consider it officially under my jurisdiction.