Is a Casper Dog Bed Comfier Than My Couch?

Greetings from my Casper dog bed. Do I own a dog? Nope. Do I live here, on a throne fit for a 90-pound pit bull? Absolutely. This memory foam dog bed—nay, dog mattress—has become the unexpected centerpiece of my home over the past month. In order to understand how I got here, we have to retrace the steps of an ancient Instagram beef, endure the ailing back of an aging millennial, and test the hype of one of the world’s most talked-about mattress companies.

I experienced my first Casper mattress back in 2016, when I was walking along Abbot Kinney boulevard in Los Angeles. There were a lot of trendier-than-thou boutiques on the street, but one refreshingly spartan, pastel-blue gallery space caught my eye. It was filled with all kinds of postmodern, The Truman Show-esque cardboard sculptures, and had a firm, plush mattress at its center. “Who is the artist?” I asked an attendant, who handed me a Casper pamphlet. I made a sound like a deflated balloon, and peaced out.

Embarrassed, but impressed by the mattress brand’s epic pop-up campaign, I did a bit of research into what was clearly not an average sleep company. Aside from the postmodern branding, Casper’s Original Mattress did not play when it came to innovative design, from the thousands of tiny perforations that kept it from overheating at night to the precise layering of its memory foam.

Alas, at over a grand, I bookmarked Casper’s mattresses in my “One Day” folder, and went on with my life. A year or so later, I must have been browsing the site with a “low to high price” filter or something, because I stopped everything and texted my friend.

“DUDE. Crazy ass Casper sale RN. This mattress is like $200.”

To which she replied, “That’s not a mattress. That’s a dog bed.”

I don’t know what delusion overcame me next, but I had to have that dog bed. Not because I had or wanted a dog, but because I wanted to see how comfortable a memory foam Casper dog bed could actually be—especially if it claimed to be made with the same attention to detail as its human-sized mattress counterparts.

Sadly, after some cheeky back-and-forth on Instagram with Casper’s social media team, it became clear that I was not going to receive a free dog bed just for kicks.

I don’t blame them, but I also never forgave them. And now, six years later, I realize I’m in a unique position: I test cult-fave products and write about them for a living. “My job,” as I explained to my editors, “is to get a sample of this Casper dog bed, and see if it’s legit as comfortable as my couch.” Within a week, my large dog bed arrived, and sneaky justice had been achieved. I was ready to give this White Whale my undivided attention.

What was rad

Casper’s branding is still just as cool as it was years ago when I stepped into its pop-up. The dog bed comes in three sizes and price ranges, and is packaged in an easy-to-carry cardboard box with clear instructions. Disassembled, the bed looks like a bunch of mozzarella sticks:

It took me about five minutes to put it together, and the dog bed couldn’t have arrived at a better time. I was having really bad back pain at work, and craving a loving—but firm—slab upon which I could starfish.

You know how your butt will sink down on the couch after an hour? How the cushions will start to slope and deflate a little? My current couch (a beautiful burner sofa from the 70s) does just that. It’s a beautiful sinkhole, and I love it—but I had a hallelujah moment when I felt the level of full-body support and firmness that the Casper dog bed delivers. (I can only imagine how it must feel for an old dog, if it feels this good for a 31-year-old woman.)

Not once did my bum hit the ground on this sucker. Even after an hour of chilling on the dog bed (and I weigh 45 pounds more than its intended 90-ish pound dog/customer), it supported me. I guess you can thank the two layers of memory foam for that, and the taut (but washable) sand-colored cover that binds it all together.

I thought I was going to have a sit and a laugh on this dog bed, and then give it to someone who actually has a pet. But then I fell asleep on it. Then I woke up and did some writing on it, and some binging of Desperate Housewives, and some sipping of Grüner—in short, I made it a MacGyvered addition to my sofa, transforming the whole thing into a sectional. Now, I can’t imagine my naps without it. Some people have couches that moonlight as sex furniture. I guess I have a modular sofa that moonlights as a dog bed.

What was tricky

It’s a little awkward, explaining to your date why you have a massive dog bed when you don’t own a dog. But it’s a price I’ll happily pay.

TL; DR

I wanted to see if a Casper dog bed was more comfortable than my couch, and it ended up being even more comfortable than my own mattress. It’s known as the Cadillac of dog beds for a reason, and the sleep lords at Casper give it the same attention to detail and as the brand’s human-sized mattresses and sleep wares.

I wanted to turn my nose up at this dog bed so bad. I wanted to say, “No one deserves a dog bed this fancy. Not even humans,” but I think that’s just the part of me that’s afraid to enjoy nice things (there are those good ol’ Puritan genes). Not all luxury is worth a high price tag, but this little slab of heaven is a legit luxurious investment. In the weeks I’ve spent napping, working, eating, and living on the dog bed, not once has my tuchus sunk to the floor.

Once upon a time, I had a cat. I would have walked through fire for his little Chartreux buns, and if I could, I would have given him an entire palace made out of these Casper dog beds—or as a prefer to call them, “micro mattresses,” knowing that it would give him the best gift of all: a lifetime of perfect naps.

The Casper dog bed is available for purchase on Casper, Amazon, and Chewy.

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