We were driving home from Maine.
The day had pretty much gone like this:
"Riggs would be a great dog for you"
"I don't want another dog"
"You'd learn a lot from handling him"
"I don't want another dog"
"He's a lot of fun to work"
"I don't want another dog"
"He's really fun"
"I don't need another dog"
"You'll have a great time with him"
"What if he doesn't get along with Ruby"
"He's a good match for you"
"I don't think his crate will fit in my car"
"Why don't you give it a try, if you don't like him, bring him back"
"I don't want another dog"
"..."
"Let me see what I can rearrange in the car"
(the short version, over the course of the day )
And 6 hours later, we pulled into my driveway and I said "wow, I don't even know if I can get him out of the crate, let alone handle him."
But six years later, I suppose I'm glad that I got talked into taking the little jackass home with me.
Riggs vs the blower at his first bath
A picture from the first weekend we had him.