It's been about two weeks since we first heard about the dog, apparently left on the isolated part of the road we live on. It was assumed he was a Pyrenees sheep dog because of his appearance. He must have checked out all the farms between the drop-off and our farm; there were other chicken houses, and even a farm with sheep, but for some reason he kept on the move until he found us.
Now I'm no lover of dogs (see my post for Feb. 13, 2011, A Terrible Emptiness) and it has been several years since we have had one. So I ignored this dog, hoping he'd move on, but finally fed him; after all, he didn't seem at all interested in the cats, just their food. I thought he was an old dog, but the men said his teeth seem like the teeth of a younger dog; that squashed my hopes that he wouldn't be here that many years. He adopted us, mostly me; we had no say! With a full stomach and a cool porch to rest on, his manner has changed: he chased one of the cats and now they have no place where they feel safe to eat. Well! that did it for me! He annoys me: always drooling on my jeans, following me every time I leave the house, running right in front of the Kubota and I can just imagine the ticks he's going to drop off in the yard!
So, he's just The Dog, no other name, and maybe, if he saves my life sometime, I'll come to like him, but not for now. Sorry...