I have cat-beds, heated and unheated; I have a human bed; I have couches and chairs; I have soft carpets and rugs. This is where Neville likes to lie sometimes. It is the old rug in the entrance hall of the apartment. I need to replace it. In the meantime, it is dirty, being on what I wipe the soles of my shoes when I come in. Nev likes to lie on it.
He does like listening to the noises that come from outside the apartment, noises from the corridor beyond the door. Perhaps he wishes to escape and is awaiting his opportunity.
He reposes elsewhere, too. He enjoys the rug in the sitting room, and the top of the taller cat-tree there. But he also lies on the relatively hard and definitely dirty rug by the front door. I don’t mind that much; he does keep himself clean.
And if I ever want him to stop, I’ll just replace the rug with a clean, soft and comfortable cat-bed. He’ll never go near it.