Ever since we gave her couch permissions (purely the old ratty couch my dad used in the fifties, we wouldn't dare provide the leisure of the nice sofas) she has spent most of her day lazing. I'm not even kidding. She'll be up for walks, and pee breaks, but as she returns to the house she'll plop her underbelly right onto her new bed. Sometimes we have to force her to eat. Sometimes she'll eat her breakfast for dinner. And her dinner for dinner the next day. Sometimes--if you are around to watch, much like Santa Claus--you'll get a peak at that rare moment when she gets off the couch, does a huge, concise stretch and ambles over to the other, hamster-smelling bed in the family room. Which she'll continue to lay on, of course.
We joke about it. When it's time for actual night-sleeping we'll say "okay, time to lay down and go to sleep!'
I'm sure you can make up your own humor.
