Then this little knucklehead showed up in our 'pond' a year ago July.
Starving, desperately thirsty, and furry dipping to escape the 103° heat.
We thought he was a Boxer, very skittish, took months to get him to come within 10 feet of us.
Finally December 1st at 1 AM (and yes, we checked every hour) 23° out he decided he could risk coming in the house.
After he'd acclimated for a couple weeks we took him to the vet, who said he couldn't treat him (eh?) he's not legally your dog (and he had no chip, no collar, no tattoo to locate said owner).
We had to take him to anna mule control and he was a political prisoner, as he'd committed no crime, in doggy jail for 5 days for the "real" owner to show up, after which he'd be transferred to the Humane Society for adoption, with me first on the list.
The Humane Society refused to take him (!) too timid/skittish.
Boxer. Chicken. We named him Tyson.
Today he's our 115 lb wrecking ball. Gentle as can be except to strangers and when in play mode, bounced up and broke my son's nose, threw out my shoulder playing keep away, took me for a drag and slammed me face first into a mail truck. Fun dog.
Good thing he's cute...
...oh, and he's apparently not a Boxer, he's an American Bulldog, and maybe part Mastiff. To late to change his name.