It's almost like a sarcophagus. He has no idea that cats were once mummified.
In the good weather, Bert gets more people time than he does in winter. He'd rather snooze close to us than down in the garage where his bed is. He still spends most mornings on the couch when Ken gets up, but he has to go outside when it's time for Callie's breakfast. Mademoiselle does not tolerate cats.
It's too bad, because Bert has no problem with dogs. It's just Callie who won't leave him alone. She was here first, it's her house, and from her point of view, Bert is an intruder who must be chased. Oh well. It's been five years and nothing's changed.
Just hanging out on the table top.