I grew up surrounded by working Border Collies and always wanted one of my own - it took me until I was 30 to get one.
Byron was an abandoned puppy I found in the park pond where some indescribable person had drowned his 3 siblings. It wasn't a good time for me to gain a dog, or so I thought. My marriage was breaking up fast and I was terrified of the future but I took the little scrap of fluff home. I was only going to keep her until I could find a good home for him.
3 days later my ex left and I got on with life with my dog, only as a temporary measure because I wasn't keeping him.
Ten years later, someone reminded me that I was meant to be finding him a home but it didn't seem worth the trouble by then.

So he stayed with me until the day my heart broke and he died from liver failure at the age of 17. He was noisy, arrogant, completely random and the best companion anyone could ever wish for. We had a constant battle over who was boss and once in a while he'd let me think I was winning. He made me laugh and on the darkest days of my life, he was a reason to live.
He was a creature of habit and knew our bedtime - if visitors outstayed his welcome, he'd stand at the bottom of the stairs, look at the visitors and then the door and repeat ... then start barking at them until they took the hint. When he was in a car he thought the louder he barked, the faster we'd get there.
I'll always miss him. I've had another dog since but can't have one at present. We've already talked about getting one when we retire and although we've discussed retired greyhounds and all manner of other rescue dogs, and although my head says we may be too old for another BC, my heart will always say no other breed will do for what will be the last dog I own.