CAESAR
As usual, der Brucer gave me little time to go on line this afternoon after he was finished. In fact, he wasn't done until early evening, the sun already having set, when he popped his head into my room and told me we had to hit the road.
It was time to take pictures again, of another dog needing a home.
Directions to the farm where Caesar was waiting were as clear as possible, I guess, given that the road wound around like a corkscrew defying us to keep track of which way north lay. We were also faced with address numbers at war with each other. This isn't the fault of the residents, really, because they had pretty much figured out how to number things out on their own. Unfortunately, the county (or is it the state, I forget which) has insisted that 911 emergency numbers now be used, a five digit thingamabob that sometimes has odd numbers on one side of the road and even on the other, and sometimes has the numbers consecutively running on the same side of the road.
Add to this that we were trying to read the numbers in complete darkness, with the only light coming from our headlights, and I'm surprised we didn't get lost. We did find the farmhouse, however, and the man with the dog came out to great us.
Caesar, a husky, was owned by a grandmotherly type on the next farm over. She has since moved to Florida, leaving two dogs behind, a Rottweiler named Buster and Caesar. Her son (not the farmer) is taking Buster with him to Florida, as well, because he thinks having a Rottweiler will look real macho on walks. The son made it clear to the farmer about his real attitude about animals, however, when he told the farmer "Aw, just bury Caesar out in the fields when he dies."
Exactly why the farmer doesn't want to keep Caesar for himself wasn't made clear, but I could tell he cares for the dog. My hunch is the farmer is just working the land, without having any property of his own, and cannot afford another mouth to feed; he may be moving soon himself, now that the crops are in.
Caesar turned out to be about four years old. He was a little shy, with a slightly mangy coat. Der B and I doubted he's had any shots since he was born, or a license. Unfortunately, there was just the flash from der Brucer's camera to light the pictures, and none of them came out well. At least one return trip will be needed. If we can, we want to see how Caesar handles being on a leash, and then take him to a vet for his shots.
Meanwhile, we've recieved no return call form the fellow who thought he might want to adopt Zeus.
