Spencer wanted to utter a protest at this invasion into the privacy of his former bedroom, but there was no chance. Not only did Ruby saunter through the front door as though she’d been born here, but he was still reeling from that casual reference to how well he handled people. Being friendly and approachable had always been Caleb’s thing, not his.

His dad, however, only chuckled. “Well, I like her.”

He gently transferred the puppy to Spencer’s arms. Wheezy took exception to this with a brush of his paw against Spencer’s leg, but his dad hadn’t bred border collies for the past forty years for nothing. With a stern command not to make a nuisance of himself and to come closer so he could take a good look at him, his dad managed to get Wheezy into something approaching docility.

“Don’t show Ruby how good you are with him,” Spencer warned as he watched the pair of them interact. “She’ll recruit you to help train him and then start showing up on your doorstep every single day until the West Coast Canine Classic is over.”

“This animal?” His dad’s chuckle deepened. “Oh dear. She’s got an uphill battle ahead of her.”

It was true. She did. But while Wheezy had to be dragged up that hill, kicking and howling the entire time, Ruby showed no signs of flagging.

Since his dad had a handle on the golden retriever, Spencer turned his attention to the black-and-white bundle of fur in his arms. Gently prodding the puppy’s mouth open and finding that only the top two canine teeth had come in, he estimated his age at around three weeks.

“See if you can get him to take the rest of that, will you?” His dad handed him the feeding bottle and turned to go inside the house. “You always had a way with the reluctant ones.”

Spencer followed his father, gently coaxing the nipple into the puppy’s mouth while he did. The animal’s short, sleek fur and still-rounded head made it difficult to tell what he would look like when he was fully grown, but Spencer didn’t doubt that he’d be something special. All his parents’ dogs were. He’d lost track of the number of them that had gone on to work farms, gotten placed in service training positions, and won dog shows.

Not his dog shows, obviously. All evidence to the contrary, Spencer normally adhered to a strict ethical code when it came to the crossover between his family and his judging duties. He didn’t know how or why or when things had become so murky, but there was no denying that they had.

Or that he didn’t care as much about it as he used to.