Sad, Sad Sun-porch Sofa, your bouncy, buoyant cushions were once beloved by humans… until you went to the dogs.
Last December, the Newf discovered your firm support yet soft, supple, cradling effects. And when your cottony fabric was pushed to extremes by the looming weight of our lounging dog, your seams split under the privacy of an impotent couch cover. Your deflated spirit was evident and inconsolable. Your white, fluffy-filler goodness bled into the room only to be toyed with by torturous beast-cats.
The cover removed, your faded shell lay splayed open like a dying Taun Taun on Planet Hoth. (Star Wars: Empire Strikes Back fans, anybody?) Our Jedi cat discovered the warmth of your exposed, cottony fill, as did his brother-friend Jackson, much to Jed’s dismay. And the humans watched your slow death with pained desire for a world of comfort which exists for them no more.
Oh, Dear Sofa, what does your future hold? Will your shapely form be recast in fabric by a brand new Singer machine? Can your bountiful fluff, since scattered to all four corners of our dwelling, thrive internally once more?
We shall see, dear Sofa. We shall see…