We have been out exploring our Brooklyn neighborhood again. The trees are glorious. The sky reveals whispers of clouds. Mom is constantly exclaiming something enthusiastic about a maple or an oak. Or sycamore.

We think it is an oak

We are always investigating. Our noses lead us to places that mom cannot follow.

Why do we have to wear our sweaters?

But wait, mom says she might go to a greyhound adoption event tomorrow. Eegaddds!!!!!

Will mom try to find another hound like me? -Matilda’s spirit (sorry about the green)