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It's finally time to face a hard truth.

My dog has an addiction that has gotten out of control. I'm ready to admit we need help. Help from Pillows-Anon.

I'm not sure when the problem started, but I know it started off fairly innocently. Sure, he'd comfort himself with the occasional stuffed animal or decorative throw pillow. Who doesn't? But then, he started stealing the pillows off our beds, and that's when it got real.

VP walked into the bedroom the other day and spied the dog having his way with one of the pillows from our bed. "Aaaagghh! Don't let him do that to my pillow! My face touches that!"

"What do you want me to do about it?" I grumbled, bored with the conversation already and eager to get back to perusing unattainable hairstyles on Pinterest.

"I don't know, but this…this is your fault! You're an enabler!" he shouted, pulling the slobber-covered pillow from the dog's maw.

"It'll be fine," I countered. "Just change the pillow case, and it'll be good as new."

I looked at the dog and murmured, "Take it easy on the pillows, buddy. You're one step away from…from…being busted down to a lower-priced gourmet dog food! Yeah, that's right. There's grain meal in your future if you don't cut this out."

See, all of the human members of the family take their sleep, and, thus, their pillows very seriously. VP and Magpie sleep with two apiece. I require a squashy down pillow. The Boy prefers a pillow that stays fluffy after it's plumped. And Lucy has her special full-body pillow with her name embroidered on the case, a gift from my sister.

All of which is thrown into chaos, chaos I tell you, when someone's pillow gets stolen off their bed by a weak-willed Weimaraner. And since we never know exactly where he's hidden his stolen stash, it's like a domino effect.

At bedtime, the first person to realize they are sans pillow steals one from someone else's room. And so it goes. Until the poor sap who is last in bed (Okay, it's me. I'm usually the poor sap) resorts to attempting to steal one from under a sleeping child's head, reasoning that "He won't even notice! This kid could sleep through a playoff game at Paul Brown Stadium!" Which only works until said child wakes up and gives me an accusing glare, causing me to slink out of the room in shame.

To say nothing of settling in for the night, putting your head on your pillow, and finding it wet and stained with dog slobber. In the beginning, it was nothing really. It started off as more of a social thing, like how he would grab a pillow as soon as company came in the door, you know, to help him relax. Or maybe a Webkinz to help him unwind at the end of a long day.When he was a puppy, it was kind of cute, actually. Now he's a full-blown addict, sneaking off the minute our backs are turned to snag a down-alternative side sleeper or even a Symphonic Harmony 600 thread count in Luxury King.

He's even sunken to stealing from his own grandparents. You heard that right. My parents were packing their car for a trip, and he snuck into the back of the car and stole a pillow, running laps around the house with it until he was finally caught. We tried to have an intervention, but he just yawned and started licking his own naughty bits.

He's obviously in deep denial. He thinks he doesn't have a problem, but when he's violating his latest fluffy conquest, the look in his glazed-over eyes whispers, "I can't quit you!" How long before he hits rock bottom? How long before we find him passed out in a pile of feathers and shredded but Supremely Soft 100% Breathable Egyptian Cotton?

I'd ask him, but he just wandered off for some foreplay with my daughter's Pillow Pet. Not to worry, though. I've got Dr. Phil on speed dial.

- Lisa Packer

Lisa Packer is a humor writer, freelance copywriter and blogger. Her blog, Notes from the Shallow End, was a Top Ten finalist for Blogger Idol 2013. She lives with her husband and three children in Cincinnati.