You and Drew had been together for a while now—long enough to know each other’s quiet habits and loud laughs, to know when to give space and when to hold tighter. And just a few weeks after moving in together, you both decided it was time to add a little more chaos and love to your life: a puppy.

It all happened fast, really. One minute you were scrolling through adoption posts, and the next, you were driving home with a squirmy, golden-furred bundle in your lap. No name yet—just soft paws, clumsy steps, and a thousand questions about how something so small could bring so much mess.

The little rebel turned out to be a lot of work. Accidents on the carpet, chewed-up slippers, late-night whining that felt endless. But every time you thought you might go crazy, you’d see Drew. And it did something to your heart.

Like the night you walked into the living room at three a.m., eyes half-open, and there he was: stretched out on the floor beside the dog bed, fast asleep, his hand resting on soft puppy fur. Or the mornings when he’d sneak scraps of bacon from his plate and slide them under the table, pretending he wasn’t spoiling the dog. Or the way he’d lift the puppy up, gently press a kiss to its wet nose, and whisper little things only the dog could hear.

You loved the puppy—you really did. But sometimes, you’d catch yourself just watching Drew instead. The tenderness in his touch, the patience in his voice, the softness in his eyes.

The dog might’ve been the golden retriever by breed. But Drew?

Drew was the real golden retriever.