Charley Says It All

One morning, after taking Coal, the allergic to the world wonder-pug, to his monthly car payment...I mean, visit to his dermatologist. Yes, he has a dermatologist...don't even get me started. But after his visit and our return home, I entered through the laundry room, and I heard Charley letting out a terrible howl from somewhere in the house. I hustled around the corner to find him standing at the front door just bellowing away, and he didn't stop until Coal trotted around the corner into the living room.

Now, Charley has never been a mouthy dog. Even after teaching him to speak, he often lets out a silent bark the first time or two. For Charley to repeatedly howl, I can only think he was really upset, and based on his silence upon Coal's return, I thought he must have missed his brother. I honestly found it rather touching.

I called Sara on the way to work to recount the tale of our dogs' bro-union, and Sara was equally flummoxed by Charley's new vocal lamentations.

Later that night, Sara came home to find Charley howling away again...even though Coal was nearby. I, at first, became worried that Charley might be showing his age--he had lost track of Coal and became upset. But then it hit me, maybe Charley missed the humans in his life, likely Sara...most definitely me. And again, I was touched by Charley's deep connection with those around him.

So when I arrived home that night, I decided to do a little experiment. Sara and I, with Coal in tow, left through the front door as if departing. I patiently waited outside for the howls to commence, and...nothing. I returned Coal to the house while Sara and I remained outside, and pretty soon, the mournful sound of...silence became deafening. Charley seemed thoroughly nonplussed by our absence.

With my tail tucked between my legs and my experiment an utter failure, I reentered the house. Upon entry, I realized that the dog pillow was still in the dryer, and I went to grab it for the dogs.

As soon as I opened the dryer door, Charley came running around the corner, slipping and sliding on the hardwood with complete disregard for his own well-being. As I slipped the pillow into it's freshly washed cover, I thought Charley was about to come out of his skin in anticipation. Never has reunion between an animal and inanimate object elicited such emotion.

And it suddenly became painfully clear...Charley missed his pillow.

Not his brother...not his humans...his pillow!

His flippin' pillow.