My name is Bogie and I love to sleep

For 10 hour intervals you won’t hear me peep

On the floor or in my bed

But not on the sofa my strict mother said


The sofa is a forbidden place

Full of white linen pillows for planting my face

I have dreams of summiting it one day soon

And when I do I’ll lay there until at least noon


When my mother leaves for work

The house becomes mine and there I lurk

At the base of the sofa looking up

Will today be the day? I think to myself, “yup”


In one hop and a little wiggle I begin to sink

Into the cushions that actually might be clouds I think

I gently close my eyes and begin to drift into a land

Where every dog has his own sofa by the beach in the sand


Surely my mother won’t mind

When she comes home to find

A cozy little bulldog

Gently snoring on the sofa, not unlike a hog

A poem by Bogie