The next door neighbor to my mother's house had a strange dog sleeping under his truck the other day. I categorized it as one of those things and didn't think much of it until the day before yesterday.
He stopped me to offer condolences, so we had a short conversation. As we were talking, he pointed the dog out and called him tripod.
Long story short: the dog was owned by some transients on the next block. They abandoned the dog and a neighbor put him in a small pen, from which he escaped. He wandered over to the neighbor's house, which offered a big heart and the care of someone that loves and respects animals.
Nobody knows how he lost a leg, which is why he's called tripod. The neighbor learned of the history from a friend.
Anyway, the neighbor is providing food and water. He's planning on building a fence soon, so Tripod could end up with a permanent home. He needs that; people can be so damned cruel and how they can be so to a small, mix breed is beyond me.
I've tried to get him to come to me, but he's weary of the species that caused him so much suffering. I won't give up. At worst, he'll never come to me. At best, I'll get to scratch his head and he'll know all humans aren't worthless pieces of crap.