Some people search for insight from all corners of the internet, their local corner bodega, or from their cable guy.  Well, maybe.

I’m lucky to have a dog couch.

From their fluffy perches, my three furballs offer daily, unfiltered insight into the human condition and they don’t even charge a copay.

Let me re-introduce you to my three sages:

The Tiny Dog: The Bouncer of the Living Room

He stands on the front couch like he owns the deed.
Every. Single. Day.

He scans the horizon (aka the street), barking furiously at… something? Nothing? Air molecules? Possibly a butterfly that dared to fly across the porch.

He’s on alert. Always.
Ready to defend us from rogue Amazon packages, squirrels, and the audacity of the wind.

We don’t know what he’s barking at.
He doesn’t either.

But that doesn’t stop him. He fully commits.

Life lesson:
You don’t need certainty to speak up. Just conviction and tiny dog energy. Sometimes, it’s not about what’s really out there. It’s about letting the world know you’re paying attention.

The Big Dog: The Philosopher in the Rear

He lounges on the back couch, body still but eyes deep.
He gazes out the window, looking like a mix between a Victorian poet and a weary king who’s seen too much.

What’s he watching?
The yard. The trees. The sky.
But mostly, I think, his own thoughts.

He doesn’t bark. He ponders.

There’s a wistfulness to him as if he’s waiting for something grand and silent to arrive. Or maybe he’s just remembering the last time he chased a raccoon and didn’t pull a muscle.

Life lesson:
Not every threat must be met with action. Sometimes, reflection is the answer. Not every window needs a bark. Some need just a sigh.

The Middle Dog: The Strategic Sleeper

This one lies right in the middle of the living room.  Literally and philosophically.

He naps. All day. He waits.
He’s not lazy. He’s efficient.

He hears the barks. He sees the big one staring out the window like a novelist on deadline. But unless there’s actual commotion or food he stays horizontal.

But when it is time? He sprints. With purpose. No warm-up. No hesitation.

Life lesson:
Rest like it’s your job. Conserve your energy for the things that matter. Dream big. But only run when you mean it.




Every day, I pass by this trio and think:  Oh boy. That’s my entire personality divided into three barking, lounging, and pondering pieces.

There are days when I’m the tiny one barking preemptively, overreacting, trying to ward off invisible worries. There are days when I stare out the proverbial window, wondering what it all means. And, there are sacred days when I nap like the middle dog. I dream. I pause. I wait to see if something is truly worth getting up for.


So if you’re looking for wisdom, just sit near a dog couch. Observe. Reflect. Maybe bark once or twice for fun. And when in doubt? Take a nap. Then, decide if it was even worth waking up for.