There is a dog that wanders our block. He neither barks nor bites. He just roams. His sad, blank eyes staring straight ahead. He doesn't acknowledge the children's attempts to feed him. No one has ever seen him poop. Some say that he is the ghost of a puppy, but everyone knows that ghosts stay the same age. One time Greg said he saw the dog digging, but everyone knows that Greg lies because his mom left. Sometimes I hear scratching at the back door. My mom says that I should just go back to sleep. That there are more important things. Sometimes she reminds me of Greg.