Our house has two couches, and I love them with equal passion. The one in the sunroom is very small—at least for me—but, it’s big enough to fold its armrests around me and keep me feeling secure.
There’s usually some sort of sheet covering its natural red skin. That’s because it’s easier to wash a sheet than to wash a couch. When human company arrives, Joan takes the sheet off and pretends that I never use the couch for my own comfort. But I do.
Sleeping, or even meditating, on the sunroom couch is a daytime activity. The sun always reaches through the windows and brings out the natural highlights in my fur while warming me just enough to remind me that I’m the luckiest dog in the universe.
The only drawback to lying on the sunroom couch is the fact that no one else can sit there with me, and that’s a little lonely. A couch without another body is an incomplete experience.
However, there’s the living room couch. Joan bought that couch brand new about ten years ago. At that time Leo, Karen Fontana’s dog, used to visit every day. Leo was a Chow Chow who loved to sit on the back of the couch and look out the window. Well, Leo kind of ruined the back of the couch, but Joan keeps it because it’s too expensive to buy another couch. Of course, the living-room couch also has a sheet over it.
Every now and then, I feel the need to lie on that couch. When I do, Joan sits at the other end and rests her leg on my back. It makes me feel that I’m part of the loving world and nothing bad can happen. Once in a while, Shane sneaks up on the couch before Joan gets to sit down. There’s no room for three of us, so Joan just stands there and wonders where to sit. Poor humans. They think too much.
The living room couch has the extra benefit of being near the television with its programs on Animal Planet. I like to watch Animal Cops because there’s always a happy ending for some of the animals.
I wonder if Leo knows that his couch is still here.
Best wishes, Juno
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