Before Victoria and I had even stopped grieving over the loss of Molly, our first Border Collie, I had been scouring the internet for an occasional puppy fix. To this day I don't remember how I found the website of a Border Collie breeder in the middle of Minnesota but one day it just popped up, and there was that face. Bob, the runt of the litter, should have been totally forgettable. He was sporting a nose that had way more than his share of pink and a partial blue left iris, both products of the Merle Gene from the sire, Bubba. Show dog material, unlikely, but that face was lure enough. I had to keep checking on him.
In a week or so I phoned the breeder to see how Bob was doing. "No takers yet. He just sort of hangs back," said a less than enthusiastic rancher. "The runt of a litter of seven and more submissive than most folks are lookin' for."
"Well, someone will take him home..he'll be perfect for some kid. Come on. He's a cute kid."
"Interested? Money back guarantee." Of course, she had no way of knowing that we didn't have the time to invest in another Border Collie so soon after losing our irreplaceable Molly to cancer. No way of knowing for sure, but she had to be sensing I'd be calling back.