Article / Archive
Will a dog bed for humans improve my life? My pets and I found out
Tim Dowling / Feb 4, 2025
Sleeping dogs, or not … Tim Dowling and his two try out the Silentnight Cosy Cuddles Snuggle Pod.
They are sometimes advertised as “human kennels” but they are all versions of the same dubious innovation: a plush dog bed big enough for humans and their pets to share. “The perfect spot for quality bonding time,” as one online offer puts it.
I already have a big bed that I share with my dog. It’s in my bedroom and it’s called my bed. The dog also has a dog bed in the same room, to which she retires obediently every night. But every morning I wake up with her lying next to me, under the covers headfirst, back legs resting on the pillow. Only one of us thinks of this as quality bonding time.
Many people think you shouldn’t sleep in the same bed as your dog and I agree with them. They say dogs are unclean. I’m like, tell me about it. We’ve got lots of dedicated dog beds in our house and they are all completely disgusting, unless you’re a dog. This is why I can’t quite see the appeal of a human-sized dog bed. I can’t imagine wanting to sleep with dogs on their terms.
The Lidl version of the human kennel, the Silentnight Cosy Cuddles Snuggle Pod, is £69.99 and long enough for a 6ft man to stretch out lengthwise. It’s a niche bit of decor – you could live in quite a big house and still have nowhere to put it. But fresh from the box, before my dog has been anywhere near it, it looks pretty inviting.
And it is comfortable, although you’ll probably want a pillow or two if you’re not used to sleeping curled up with your nose tucked under your hind leg. With a blanket, you might even accommodate an overnight human guest in it.
The dog, however, regards the Snuggle Pod with profound suspicion: forbidden furniture masquerading as a dog bed; a giant mixed message.
“It’s fine,” I say, tugging on her collar. “It’s for an article. Get in.”
Snuggling … eventually, the big dog fell asleep too.
The other dog, the small dog, wanders over, sniffs the bed, vaults the edge and commandeers a corner. Finally, the big dog is persuaded to come aboard, but she sits awkwardly, facing away from me and stealing the odd sidelong glance.
“Relax,” I say. “You’re ruining this for me.”
The Snuggle Pod cover is removable and washable, which is probably disappointing for a dog. It is billed as “the ultimate cosy night in solution”, and is said to be targeted primarily at gen Z, with their celebrated contempt for socialising. Some promotional pictures don’t even have dogs in them – just contented singletons wearing headphones – which sort of elevates the appeal. It’s the ultimate cosy night in solution for when your dog is out.
Eventually the big dog lies down and stretches out. As undisgusting as it is, she seems to see the point at last. She looks around the giant plush pod as if thinking: this will do nicely, once it’s filthy.
Then she falls fast asleep on my arm. Of the three of us now sharing the Snuggle Pod, I am the only one not snoring. I lie there, staring at the ceiling, wishing I’d had the foresight to point the bed toward the television before I climbed in.
Will a dog bed for humans improve my life? My pets and I found out
Tim Dowling / Feb 4, 2025
Sleeping dogs, or not … Tim Dowling and his two try out the Silentnight Cosy Cuddles Snuggle Pod.
They are sometimes advertised as “human kennels” but they are all versions of the same dubious innovation: a plush dog bed big enough for humans and their pets to share. “The perfect spot for quality bonding time,” as one online offer puts it.
I already have a big bed that I share with my dog. It’s in my bedroom and it’s called my bed. The dog also has a dog bed in the same room, to which she retires obediently every night. But every morning I wake up with her lying next to me, under the covers headfirst, back legs resting on the pillow. Only one of us thinks of this as quality bonding time.
Many people think you shouldn’t sleep in the same bed as your dog and I agree with them. They say dogs are unclean. I’m like, tell me about it. We’ve got lots of dedicated dog beds in our house and they are all completely disgusting, unless you’re a dog. This is why I can’t quite see the appeal of a human-sized dog bed. I can’t imagine wanting to sleep with dogs on their terms.
The Lidl version of the human kennel, the Silentnight Cosy Cuddles Snuggle Pod, is £69.99 and long enough for a 6ft man to stretch out lengthwise. It’s a niche bit of decor – you could live in quite a big house and still have nowhere to put it. But fresh from the box, before my dog has been anywhere near it, it looks pretty inviting.
And it is comfortable, although you’ll probably want a pillow or two if you’re not used to sleeping curled up with your nose tucked under your hind leg. With a blanket, you might even accommodate an overnight human guest in it.
The dog, however, regards the Snuggle Pod with profound suspicion: forbidden furniture masquerading as a dog bed; a giant mixed message.
“It’s fine,” I say, tugging on her collar. “It’s for an article. Get in.”
Snuggling … eventually, the big dog fell asleep too.
The other dog, the small dog, wanders over, sniffs the bed, vaults the edge and commandeers a corner. Finally, the big dog is persuaded to come aboard, but she sits awkwardly, facing away from me and stealing the odd sidelong glance.
“Relax,” I say. “You’re ruining this for me.”
The Snuggle Pod cover is removable and washable, which is probably disappointing for a dog. It is billed as “the ultimate cosy night in solution”, and is said to be targeted primarily at gen Z, with their celebrated contempt for socialising. Some promotional pictures don’t even have dogs in them – just contented singletons wearing headphones – which sort of elevates the appeal. It’s the ultimate cosy night in solution for when your dog is out.
Eventually the big dog lies down and stretches out. As undisgusting as it is, she seems to see the point at last. She looks around the giant plush pod as if thinking: this will do nicely, once it’s filthy.
Then she falls fast asleep on my arm. Of the three of us now sharing the Snuggle Pod, I am the only one not snoring. I lie there, staring at the ceiling, wishing I’d had the foresight to point the bed toward the television before I climbed in.
