By chance, "he" was recruited by the State Department (he had been an aerospace engineer). In the summer of 2002, he sold his house--which I had been living in--and moved to D.C. for training. I asked him what he would've done with Caesar (since I had adopted Roman) if I wasn't around. He said he would've had to give him up. Not under my watch.
So at the end of Aug., the dogs and I slept on the floor in a completely empty house before closing and the new owners moved in. I had to finish out a temp job, and although I was offered a full-time job at the same company, California had become too expensive and crowded, so I also had decided to move back east (where we both were from). I only had a Saturn sedan at the time, so I sold it and bought a Subaru Forester, as it was the only car aside from a Toyota Matrix that had back seats that laid down flat for the dogs. Then my sister flew out, and we packed up the dogs and the car, then drove 3,000 miles in 5 days to my mom's in Upstate NY. Prior to our trip back east, she had said no dogs allowed. I said fine, I'd be homeless then. So she gave in and said the dogs could stay on the porch. Well, once we arrived, that didn't last long at all. Caesar, Roman, and I settled in her basement apartment, and the dogs ultimately had free reign of the house. Not only that, they became my mom's "granddogs."
(Moral of the story? Unless one is incapably disabled or dying, there is no excuse to dump animals. And even then, it's up to the owner to find loving homes. Those who can't speak for themselves fully depend on humans to take care of them responsibly and respectfully for life.)
After searching for a job for 3 months, I received a great offer and ironically moved to Maryland in December 2002 with the dogs ("he" and I stayed in touch until he was sent off to Mozambique, Africa, in May 2004 for his first State Dept. post). The boys and I ended up living in a nice 1 BR first floor apt. for over 4 years, after which time I received an offer from my old boss to become a contractor for his small consulting group. Since it would allow me to begin working from home beginning January 2007, I accepted and started looking into buying our first home in an area I could afford, which was Upstate NY and close to my parents. In April 2007, the dogs and I moved from MD to our new home in Liverpool, NY. I settled on a house that had a big fenced-in backyard and large enclosed porch, and was in a neighborhood with all cul de sacs, 1 mi. from the lake, and 1/2 mi. from the dog park. It was the best decision I made, as I knew Caesar was getting old (he was 12 by then), and I wanted him and Roman to have plenty of room and freedom to enjoy the last years of their lives. Caesar ended up loving the house, the porch, and the yard, while Roman could care less. Go figure! I'm so grateful that I was able to spent 2 full yrs. at home with Caesar before he died instead of being away from him all day in an office.
So at the end of Aug., the dogs and I slept on the floor in a completely empty house before closing and the new owners moved in. I had to finish out a temp job, and although I was offered a full-time job at the same company, California had become too expensive and crowded, so I also had decided to move back east (where we both were from). I only had a Saturn sedan at the time, so I sold it and bought a Subaru Forester, as it was the only car aside from a Toyota Matrix that had back seats that laid down flat for the dogs. Then my sister flew out, and we packed up the dogs and the car, then drove 3,000 miles in 5 days to my mom's in Upstate NY. Prior to our trip back east, she had said no dogs allowed. I said fine, I'd be homeless then. So she gave in and said the dogs could stay on the porch. Well, once we arrived, that didn't last long at all. Caesar, Roman, and I settled in her basement apartment, and the dogs ultimately had free reign of the house. Not only that, they became my mom's "granddogs."
(Moral of the story? Unless one is incapably disabled or dying, there is no excuse to dump animals. And even then, it's up to the owner to find loving homes. Those who can't speak for themselves fully depend on humans to take care of them responsibly and respectfully for life.)
After searching for a job for 3 months, I received a great offer and ironically moved to Maryland in December 2002 with the dogs ("he" and I stayed in touch until he was sent off to Mozambique, Africa, in May 2004 for his first State Dept. post). The boys and I ended up living in a nice 1 BR first floor apt. for over 4 years, after which time I received an offer from my old boss to become a contractor for his small consulting group. Since it would allow me to begin working from home beginning January 2007, I accepted and started looking into buying our first home in an area I could afford, which was Upstate NY and close to my parents. In April 2007, the dogs and I moved from MD to our new home in Liverpool, NY. I settled on a house that had a big fenced-in backyard and large enclosed porch, and was in a neighborhood with all cul de sacs, 1 mi. from the lake, and 1/2 mi. from the dog park. It was the best decision I made, as I knew Caesar was getting old (he was 12 by then), and I wanted him and Roman to have plenty of room and freedom to enjoy the last years of their lives. Caesar ended up loving the house, the porch, and the yard, while Roman could care less. Go figure! I'm so grateful that I was able to spent 2 full yrs. at home with Caesar before he died instead of being away from him all day in an office.
It is a wonderful story, with a greyt moral. Not only is there no excuse for dumping a dog, there is no excuse for not finding a place to live with them. A 1 bedroom apartment is big enough for a greyhound, it's big enough for a small dog too. People don't believe us. Oh well, you did a greyt thing.
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