My dog Biscuit has decided he is a cat.
He sits on the windowsill. He falls off the windowsill. He gets back up and sits there again.
He ignores me when I call his name. He stares at the wall for no reason. He knocks things off the table with his paw — carefully, deliberately, looking me right in the eye.
He tried to fit into the cat's basket. He did not fit. He sat in it anyway, half in and half out, looking extremely satisfied.
"Biscuit," I said, "you are a dog."
He looked at me slowly. He yawned. He turned his back on me.
The cat walked past and sat exactly where Biscuit was sitting.
Biscuit moved. Because apparently even fake cats respect real cats.
I don't know what's happening in this house anymore.