When a Dog Loves a Pillow

Andy is my third Golden Retriever. He's 10 years old now, but still healthy, athletic, energetic and as handsome a guy as he can be. He has been the most special dog for my son and I, centering us and entertaining us and loving us through very difficult times.

Now goldens, you may know, are known for loving to have something in their mouths. They are, after all, "retrievers"; a kind of dog bred to have what's known in the dog world as a "soft" mouth for carrying without damaging, like when retrieving their master's game like ducks or geese or pigeons. Most goldens probably never get to do that these days, of course, as most are just pets - oh, excuse me, family members - to suburbanites rather than hunting helpers to sportsmen. But still the instinct to carry and retrieve, to have something in their mouth, is always there.

Some goldens love to carry tennis balls. Some carry their leash. Some have favorite stuffed squeaky toys. But some seem to take it to a whole new level. That's my Andy. Takin' to the limit, of course.

When Andy was just a little over a year old, he took a shine to my son's pillow. Nothing special to us; just a twin bed pillow. But Andy seemed to see something special in her. He took her for his very own and never looked back. Nor has he ever looked at another pillow.

It was obvious from the start that Andy's interest in this particular pillow was more than just puppy love. He soon took her everywhere with him. He had to have her with him in the car when he went for a ride. He had to have her when he was with us watching a movie downstairs. He had to haul her upstairs when it was time to go to bed. I gotta say, there's nothing cuter than watching this big, athletic dog with the flowing coat carrying his pillow up the driveway or down the hall.

And I don't mean he brings her just to rest his little face on her. Oh, he does that, too. But Andy sucks on her. For hours. He scrunches and kneads her with his paws, then takes a bunch of her in his mouth, closes his eyes and just sucks and sucks and sucks. You can pet him. You can scritch him. But he doesn't move. He is content in her arms ... er ... well, you know what I mean.

It was clear early on that Andy was in love. So we had to name her. This special pillow became "Stella", named after a show dog he had had a brief crush on - before Stella, of course. So for about nine years now, Andy and Stella have been an item; madly in love and hopelessly devoted. Stella is Andy's woman.

Since she has, naturally, become part of the family, Stella gets presents every Christmas, too. And Andy has come to expect them, eagerly awaiting when the gift handed out from Santa is something for Stell. Each year, Santa knows exactly what she wants, and she receives two new "dresses" - character pillowcases like something from a Disney movie or Sponge Bob or Scooby Doo - wrapped with care in pretty paper and a bow. She immediately gets to put on one of her new dresses and Andy goes back to sucking on his beautifully dressed girlfriend, right there in the middle of the floor in front of the Christmas tree.

His love for Stella is obvious. He not only loves on her, he is protective of her. You can take anything from him, but don't mess with his woman! The only little growls I think Andy has ever uttered have been over Sweet Stella.

We've never really figured out what he sees in her. She seems to us, just a pillow, after all. But we've tried to switch pillows, thinking he wouldn't notice, but he won't have it. None of it. My son, when he was younger, once tried to take Stella away from Andy and told him somewhat angrily when Andy protested that he couldn't possibly love a pillow. But Andy exclaimed in no uncertain terms that he "love(d) every curve of her body". To which my son responded dryly, "She's a rectangle." How brothers will argue.

But sometimes you can hear Andy singing about Stella, for instance, to the old BeeGees tune, "More than a pil-lo-ow. More than a pil-low to me-ee-eeh". Or when he's feeling really romantic, I would swear I've heard him croon, "When a do-og loves a pil-low". I s'pose it could be my imagination. (But I don't think so.)

Whatever you may think of such a relationship, there is no denying that what Andy and Stella have is true love. My son said to me the other day that when Andy dies one day, we will have to bury Stella with him. And he's right. A dog and his beloved pillow should never be apart.