So far as Caz is concerned, the technical term for this is "Direct Challenge." He has felt honor bound to defeat these obstacles and has met the furniture on the field of battle. Within hours of my installing the slip covers, he successfully demonstrated his superiority over a mere coverlet by removing the cover and settling himself in between the re-arranged cushions.

So far as I'm concerned, the technical term for this is "Direct Challenge." No dog is going to upset my plans for preserving the furniture.

The slip covers I bought come with tie-down straps, but they aren't arranged properly for my sofas. I'm not sure the actually work for any sofa.

However, I found some Fashion Fit Dress Clips on Amazon. These gadgets are a pair of clips connected by a couple inches of elastic strap. The clips really grab onto cloth, unlike paper clips or even the bull-dog clips that I tried first.

However, the couple of inches of elastic is insufficient to tie down the slip cover. I needed yards of elastic strapping to reach under the couch.

Michael's carries a fine variety of elastic strapping. They are happy to sell you as much strapping as you could possibly need. Even my project barely put a dent in their stock.

After about an hour of cutting, stretching, and snapping (while Mark (the cat) helped by playing with the stretchy ribbon), I've got the slip cover secured at the corners and centers.

After a few days, Caz has been unable to remove the slip covers, and has had to resort to eating them.

Apparently, dog-proof doesn't mean what I thought it did.

But, the covers are enough larger than his appetite that I think I'll be able to use them for a couple years before replacing them.

Mark, meanwhile, has continued his supervisory duties. He's always been interested whenever I take something apart or work on a project. He likes to arrange the parts properly as I remove them ("properly" means placing them at their lowest potential energy point: on the floor.)

The weather got chilly enough that I grabbed one of my old Around-The-House flannel shirts. I noticed it had a rip on the sleeve, and decided to mend that - one in time saves nine, you know. Mind you, this shirt is from the 20'th century, and might have been from the Reagan era. Mending one rip doesn't really matter, except that I won't stick a finger through the hole while I'm putting on the shirt and tear off the entire sleeve.

So, a quick setup the sewing machine, and everything was ready to go. However, before starting, Mark had to cross-check my setup, with his head between mine and the active part of the sewing machine.

After checking the front and side view of the work area, he settled behind the sewing machine, where he could QC my work as it progressed.

I started sewing, and the needle went up, the needle went down. and Mark decided that this was a great new toy. He needed to catch the needle before it either went up through the ceiling, or down through the floor.

I had a horrifying image of trying to squeeze him and the sewing machine into the cat carrier and then trying to explain what happened to the vet.

Much to my joy and Mark's annoyance, I caught his paw before he managed to catch the needle.

Then I caught it again before he managed to catch the needle on the next pass.

Luckily, the rip was only a couple inches, and it only took a few seconds to mend it, and by then Mark was getting bored with the needle that wasn't cooperating by flying up to the ceiling where it would be fun to watch.