He's a mini foxy who fails to acknowledge that he is not human.
I think he sometimes feels incredibly hard done by that he is not allowed to eat at the table, ride shot-gun in the car, join us on shopping outings, eat ice cream or chocolate cake, or sleep on the lounge.
And I'm sure he doesn't appreciate me pulling him into line and banishing him outside when the occasion warrants. Aunty Shelley truly is a bitch.
Last night he took matters into his own hands (paws?) in an attempt to prove his human-ness.
He did this all by himself: jumped up onto mum's bed, snuggled himself under the covers and arranged himself so that his head was on her pillow.
It didn't work. He still had to sleep outside for the night.:)