First True Love

For my fourth birthday I was given a stuffed animal of a harbor seal. I was only four so I don’t remember receiving it, though I am told it was my grandparents who gave him to me. I also don’t know why, in particular, they decided to give me a seal, but they did.

His name was (and is) Andre, named after the famous harbor seal who was half wild, raised by Rockport, Maine’s harbormaster, Harry Goodridge, from when he was just a couple of days old. Andre had been abandoned by his mother as apparently happens sometimes with seal pups; Harry adopted him. From 1961 until 1986, Andre lived at least part of the time in Rockport, tended to by Harry. A good summary of Andre’s story can be read here. Harry Goodridge also wrote a book entitled A Seal Called Andre, which I highly recommend.

Andre the Seal, times two.

Perhaps I was given the seal along with a children’s book about Andre because I had been told the story of this seal and was enthralled. Maybe it was because I thought seals were cute and I wanted one. I honestly couldn’t say. But I am glad to say that four year old me had excellent judgment when it came to picking a favorite animal/a celebrity animal to admire. Andre was the coolest.

It’s not my story to tell, really. If you’re interested I suggest reading the book for the full details. But here I will share just a couple of things about Andre which I love (other than the fact that he was a seal and was cute).

Andre the Seal embodied the concept of loyalty. He was friendly to all people, but the Goodridges were his family, most especially Harry who would take Andre on skin diving adventures. Likewise, Andre was loyal to Rockport Harbor. During his life he could be found sleeping in dinghies, lobster boats, in general relaxing in someone’s way all over the harbor, reluctant to move if he was really comfortable. I find that so charming.

Harry always assumed that eventually Andre would return to the wild, but Andre kept coming home. Sometimes he might disappear for a few days or weeks at a time, but he always came home. Eventually there came a time when it became clear that Andre would be better off spending the harsh winters in an aquarium. Harry arranged for accommodations at an aquarium in Massachusetts (and later in Mystic, Connecticut), and drove Andre there in his truck. When spring came around, Harry picked Andre up, drove him to a nearby harbor, and told him to go home. Within a couple of weeks sure enough Andre would show up back in Rockport Harbor, his home.

Andre was also a performer at heart. During the summertime Andre and Harry put on free shows for anyone in Rockport Harbor who wanted to watch. Andre knew all kinds of tricks and was happy to perform them for the crowds that showed up every day. Admission was free.

In 1978, Andre was immortalized in the form of a statue which sits in the Rockport Marine Park right next to the harbormaster’s office. The statue is positioned so that Andre is forever looking out at the water. He is the honorary harbormaster of Rockport, Maine and the forever harbormaster of my heart.

Andre died in 1986 just a couple of months before I was born, so I never got to see him in person. But I cannot remember a time when I didn’t have my Andre, my stuffed animal. From the first time I learned the story about the living, breathing Andre, I have believed that his heart and soul lives inside my Andre the stuffed animal. Every time I hug my Andre, I am hugging that spirit of loyalty, the constant presence, the personality. With each hug I am awed by the bond that can exist between a human and an animal, the strength of the connection, the care, the love.

Last week I was in Maine with my dad, Aunt Linda, and my sister. We were staying just a few towns south of Rockport so it was a given that we would be making a pilgrimage to the site of Andre’s antics and to snuggle his statue. (I warned my family that it might take multiple police officers to pry me off of the statue, but thankfully it did not come to that.) I, of course, brought my Andre along for the visit as he too needed to see his home harbor and meet his namesake.

The statue of Andre is surrounded by lovely flowers. There are no huge signs directing you to the statue or telling you the whole story. There is a small plaque which sums it up in a few sentences. And the statue itself simply says “Andre the Seal”. It if very much an “if you know, you know” situation. There were no crowds waiting to take pictures with Andre, we just walked right up to him.

When I walked up to Andre the statue I immediately put my hand on his head, gave him a few pats, said hello. The stone was cool despite the bright sun. I snuggled my Andre closer in one arm and just rested my hand on Andre’s head. Perhaps it was just the 34 year build up to the moment of meeting the statue for myself, of being in the very place where it all happened, but I swear I could feel that spirit in the statue. I felt that he was saying hello to me as if he’d just been waiting for me to turn up. Everything I feel when I hug my Andre, I felt while touching that statue. It was deeply calming and I felt this overwhelmingly satisfying connection, like a confirmation that if I had met Andre in real life we definitely would have been best friends.

Perhaps the greatest snuggling moment of my life…

I would like to say that I left it at that, enjoyed a peaceful moment of communing with Andre’s spirit and then walked away with my dignity. But that’s not how I roll. I proceeded to snuggle the statue and take as many photos as possible. I posed while my sister took pictures of me, my Andre, and statue Andre in various configurations, the most undignified being when I threw my leg over the top of Andre the statue as if to spoon him. Poor guy; I probably came on too strong with my affection.

We walked around the rest of the marine park, admired the boats in the harbor, looked for some geocaches. But before we left I circled back to Andre, this time taking a seat on the front of his statue and leaning back into him, my Andre in my arms. Again I felt surrounded in comfort and love rather than the stone and stuffing between which I was sandwiched. Andre’s spirit is alive and well in Rockport. It was hard to get up and walk away from him if I’m honest. I wish I lived closer and could visit him more often.

My Andre has always been a great comfort to me. For a long time I could not sleep without him. I still bring him pretty much everywhere with me if I’m staying overnight. He is my preferred pillow. He is the best to snuggle when I’m sad. The cat knows that Andre is not a toy and doesn’t touch him. Andre is the ultimate comfort object and I love him with all of my heart. I have since I was four, my first true love. And every time I hug him, I feel that little buzz of connection again, a small portion of that indefatigable spirit radiating out of his little smushed gray body. Loyalty and love and a reminder of the ties that bind.