Why It’s Perfectly OK for My 8-and-a-Half-Year-Old Cocker Spaniel to Lounge on the Sofa
Now, before you start imagining a furry little rebel causing chaos in the living room, let me assure you: my Cocker Spaniel is no hooligan. At the ripe old age of 8 and a half, he’s well beyond his puppy days of chewing on chair legs and leaving mysterious puddles on the floor. Oh no, this is a distinguished gentleman we’re talking about, and he’s earned his right to a prime spot on the sofa. But, of course, only under the strictest conditions! Here’s why it’s absolutely fine for him to claim his cushioned throne, and, more importantly, why I’m not just spoiling him senseless.
The Power of Eye Contact: Sofa Permission Protocol
Now, some dogs will just leap onto your furniture like it's their birth right. Not mine. My dog is a model of respect and restraint – at least when it comes to the sofa. He has this look, this soulful gaze that says, "pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee" It’s as though he’s auditioning for a role as the world’s most polite canine. I swear, sometimes he stares at me so intently, I’m half expecting him to pull out a little permission slip that needs my signature.
When our eyes meet, I know what’s coming: the Question. I respond with his permission word which is 'OK'
The Sacred Blanket Rule
Now, let’s not get carried away here – he’s not allowed to slobber all over my sofa cushions like some sort of wild beast. There are rules, you see. And one rule reigns supreme: the sofa is off-limits unless the blanket is on. The blanket, of course, is his throne cover, his royal decree that yes, indeed, the sofa is ready for his delicate paws. Without the blanket, it’s as if the sofa is simply too posh for him.
When the blanket isn’t down, he’ll sit next to the sofa, occasionally giving it a sideways glance, like a diner locked outside their favourite restaurant, nose pressed against the glass. The moment the blanket goes on, however, it's a different story. He prances over, tail wagging like I’ve just invited him to a Michelin-starred restaurant, and hops up with a grace I can only describe as regal.
A Long Journey from Crate to Cushion
I wasn’t always this lenient, you know. In the early days, the sofa was a sacred, dog-free zone. I mean, he was still mastering basic survival skills like remembering that the back garden is literally the only acceptable place to pee. So, naturally, allowing him near the fabric-covered altar in the living room was off the table. Until the house training was 100% sorted, he was not allowed on furniture
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