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My heart skips a beat. Riggs talking to the puppy might be the cutest thing I've ever seen.
Riggs asks the owner, "Is he old enough to come home with us today?"
The owner nods. "Yeah, I have his papers and everything. He's had his first set of shots."
"Great." Riggs turns to me. "Don't worry. We'll hire someone to care for the dog while you work."
I shake my head. "I don't want to take him with me."
Riggs arches his eyebrows. "Why wouldn't you want to?"
"It's a lot. You know I have enough things to worry about when I'm on tour. And besides, I don't want it to be my dog. If we get a dog, I want it to be ours. And you don't want him around when I'm not there, so we shouldn't get him," I say, trying to be responsible, even though I want the puppy.
Riggs stares at me.
The puppy whines.
Riggs glances at him, then me. He claims, "We'll figure all this out, don't worry about it. It will be our dog."
I put my hand on my hip. "That's a big statement for you to make. How will you take care of him when I'm gone?"
An exasperated look fills his features. "You know there are people who take care of dogs. They walk them and come feed them when you can't."
I continue to assess him, wondering if this is the right thing for us to do when we have so many issues we haven't resolved.
Riggs asserts, "You might change your mind too. You're going to miss him when you're gone. Maybe you'll decide you do want him on tour."
I gaze at the puppy, then reach for him. I pull him toward my chest, and he licks my chin. It's the final straw. I can't fight Riggs anymore, and I cave. "Okay, let's get him."
Riggs grins at the owner, declaring, "Let me see the paperwork."
I continue to rub my new puppy's head, and he licks me again. I'm already in love with him. He's perfect.
The owner tells us what food the dog eats and reminds us to always have water for him. He says, "I'm putting the vet's business card in the envelope with the rest of your paperwork. Just in case you need one."
"Perfect, thank you," Riggs says, then folds the envelope and puts it in his pocket. He points to the table and asks me, "Do you want to pick out a collar and leash?"
I glance through the options and choose a black one.
Riggs pays for it and secures the collar around the dog's neck. He clasps the leash and hands it to me. He asks, "Ready?"
I'm still a bit in shock. I ask him again, "You really are serious about this?"
He slides his hand around my back and starts leading me down the street, answering, "Yeah."
We take a few steps, but the puppy isn't used to the leash. He keeps jumping on me.
Riggs states, "He really likes you."
Happiness fills me. I glance at my new puppy and bend down, stroking its fur. He jumps up, and I laugh again. It's been a long time since I laughed as much as I have today, and it feels good.
"What are you going to name him?" Riggs questions.
"Let me think. I didn't exactly expect to come out to breakfast and leave with a dog," I admit, and ponder the question while we continue walking down the street.
It only takes about half a block for the puppy to catch on to how to walk next to us.
Another dog approaches us, roughly barking at my puppy. Instead of cowering, he growls back, lifting his chin in the air and standing taller.
