The Sofa Wars--New Season

For readers new to this series, first there was the red sofa. Everybody liked the red sofa. Sweetie pretty much lived on it in Germantown. When we moved to the Tick Ranch and we were all alone out there just the three of us, after dinner what the dogs preferred was that I should sit in the middle of the red sofa with Misha on one side of me and Sweetie on the other, laptop on my lap and the TV on.

But by the time we left the Tick Ranch the red sofa had become such a smelly loathsome object that it really made no sense to keep it. So the red sofa went on to the Sofas' Graveyard. A friend donated a foam loveseat that was lightweight (I could lift it all by myself) and folded out into a bed. This was when the sofa wars started to heat up because there was only room for one person and one dog on it--provided the dog was not Misha, who was a little fat at the time. She is a lot fat now, kibble-stealing hog that she is.

There was never any question of the two dogs sharing the loveseat, because they get along by maintaining a certain distance. The rules of personal space between the two of them are subtle, complex and subject to all sorts of exceptions and riders. But at any rate one of them was don't share the loveseat. Sweetie generally monopolized the loveseat, but occasionally of an evening Misha would get up there and then somehow the rest of the living room would become somehow--uncomfortable. Something was wrong, and after a while you'd realize that the uncomfortableness was emanating from Sweetie, mysteriously, silently and odorlessly and colorlessly. And you couldn't figure out what it was. Then Misha would get down off the sofa, to get a drink of water or stretch out on the cool of the wood floor, and Sweetie would hop onto the sofa and within a minute the invisible whatever-it-is that was making everybody nervous would stop.

After she rendered that sofa into an unspeakable object I had to get rid of it. I don't really have room in my apartment for a big smelly piece of furniture that only the dogs can use. Except the recliner. And the recliner is going. Even Misha won't sit on it any more and I would advise any human against it.

But one must sit somewhere. So the last round of the sofa wars was the purchase of a sofa-loveseat combo made of imitation leather. The thick, rubbery kind. And I was happy to see that the dogs HATED it. Sweetie got up there once and then got down with a look of disdain and loathing on her face that would have made me laugh if I didn't feel slightly guilty. Misha just looked tragic, which is her general response to all adverse circumstances not involving potential attackers. She would sit up there occasionally, but she's given that up.

To compensate, I bought them new dog beds and they quite like those. They are unclear on the concept of "Big" and "Small" but Misha doesn't mind sort of draping herself over Sweetie's little donut-shaped dog bed like a shipwrecked person clinging to a life preserver. And Sweetie can stretch out at full length in Misha's.

The main problem with the sofa and loveseat is that I hate them too. They are uncomfortable and cluttery, and while they might look nice in some sleek minimalist sort of environment they just look ugly among my bookshelves. So I think they have to go. Of course the presence of the two moochers means that I will never spend a lot of money for a sofa. Probably wouldn't anyway. I know what they want. They want another big comfy sofa where we can all sit together like in the good old days at the Tick Ranch. I would like a comfy sofa so I can sit in my living room like a human being, not like the leader of a dog pack. You can see there is some conflict here, and this is a conflict that unfortunately the dogs have been winning pretty steadily. My house is the last stop before the landfill for any sofa. It is hard to be motivated to buy one when this is the reality of it. Nevertheless, I ought to do it. But I kind of feel sorry for the sofa.