I never liked Mark’s high-backed Vico Magistretti sofa. But all four of our Labs have considered its red wool the ultimate in comfiness for nap time.
Before we realized how much we’d accommodate our dogs (happily, with love), and how much physical, emotional and psychic space we’d devote to them, we tried coating the sofa with magazines to discourage Willie (first-born schmoo) from using it. He swept them off. Grover and Leo, Willie’s beneficiaries, climbed up without incident and mostly hung out calmly.
It’s sweet Ryder (the fourth-born), who has clawed through the cover or pushed it up at a an edge and dug deeply into the lining and the foam, making a nest.
In his defense the foam had already started disintegrating quite a bit, and about a year ago we got a new sofa, with an integral chaise, sleek in grey wool with chrome legs. As we moved the Magistretti to the hallway, on its way to the curb for big garbage pick-up, Ryder looked at it, with a longing bordering on panic. Fine, it could stay in my studio for a few weeks, to prevent him from colonizing the new sofa. And, covered with a blue sheet, that’s where it remains. Ryder continues to adjust it (when necessary).
Happy eighth birthday, beloved Pie Pie. With marrow bones too taxing for Leo’s weakened teeth, today’s celebratory treats will be lots and lots of beef and biscuits (including the pumpkin “crinkly fries” Natasha and Maggie brought last weekend).