So this is Shorty. He lives at my house. The missing leg remains a mystery. He was adopted by my roommate, Jonathan, through a boxer rescue league. The leg was gone at that point, and the league members didn't know how it got that way. He doesn't bark but prefers to make monkey-like noises when Jonathan leaves the house. Long walks with the pooch remain out of my grasp; he has trouble making it down the street to the coffee shop and back. Shorty is enjoying his life on Bateman Street, I think.