Henry came to us via the neighbor. Her college-age son got himself a puppy. And then realized how much work they are. And then brought it home thinking his mom would raise it for him. Wrong. She knew the couple next door had another golden retriever and figured they'd be suckers for another one. After all, who could resist all that fuzzy cotton ball cuteness?
Well she picked the right house. Against our better judgment and against the warning from my mom (who also has 2 male golden retrievers), we took him in. Look at him, could you have said no? So he's almost 18 months old now, still behaves much like a puppy, though somewhat better (right Carol?), still wrestles with Dave, still rips giant branches off the bushes out back when you're not paying attention, still eats bath mats, still has not made friends with Zoe The Cat...but we love him.
Henry's names (he's still young so he hasn't collected as many as Dave):