the merits of being a couch potato?

There's a bench in the room I'm in. Some people are sitting on it. Only their legs and knees can be seen from where I am. A tiny dog, type pincher, walks in and lifts a leg to have a merry pee on one of the legs. I'm laughing out loud. Sounds coming through. A voice. The news anchor of Studio Brussels. Update. It is Eleven o'Clock. Shoot! I wanted to take on of the cats to the vet today.

Awakening sweeps in, and I drift in and out of consciousness. I want to open my eyes, I need to wake up, now, come on already! But it won't work. My eyes drop back shut, it's dark again. A creaking sound, like the front door when it's left ajar and is moved by the wind. Surely it can't be? Panic. My eyes won't open. Sure there is no one in the house? An intruder? A sensation of being disconnected from reality sets in. Could this be what it's like when you're dying? Nothing, no sensation for a split second. Yikes... I shake my head. Somehow this makes things snap back into their proper position, because my eyes open this time and hurray, I am awake. Still a bit drowsy, I take a look around me.


Becoming aware of my surroundings seems to last forever. Outside, the sun is shining and the light is flooding through my flimsy curtains. The cupboard, on top of it 'Trees', the statue of Saint Theresia that got a makeover from my boyfriend by dripping red wax all over her and adorned with jolly little skulls. My collection of decorative rats and crows. The little couch below the window, where Sid is lying, snoring contendly, his face dug snugly into the sheepskin. Zoom in. Luka lying on my feet. Her long galgo nose leans on the coffee table. Zoom closer. Another galgo's head, gone white over the years. A pair of eyes, squinting peacefully, a big black nose and a couple of long feet like a hare's on my shoulder. A bit to the side two cat gents, occupying my chest and belly. Their little heads are turned to me. Next to me on the floor two huge dog paws testify for the presence of some 60 kilos of mastin stretched out behind the coffee table. 
 
I stir. Nancy's paws stretch and contract. Long galgo toes are pressed into my shoulder. Two almond shaped eyes open, followed suit by a long yawn, emitting a rather foul smell. Old dog's mouth, slightly uremic from grooming his pito. Next to him two pairs of cat's eyes appear, and two little mouths open simultaneously. Smell of fish. I turn my head. Pheweee what a smell! In the mean time, the rest of my body has awoken too. I'm hungry, I need to go to the bathroom, I have to take a shower, will I be at the vet's in time ... no I won't. That will be another day, then. Good thing that it's not anything urgent.
Once finished showering I peek into the living room. My spot on the couch is occupied again, my duvet is much appreciated. All four of them are totally knock out, again. I wonder, do they ever wake up feeling drowsy and disconnected? Or maybe they are in a permanent state of haziness, blissfully unaware of what goes on around them. I really should not pursue this mastery of couchpotatoeship too often, especially during the day. That is better left to the dogs. After all, they have made their couchpotatoeship into an art form.