 Good morning, Hank. It's Tuesday. We have a puppy. His name is Potato. He is the greatest. He's such a good boy. He's such a good puppy. So Hank, even though Potato is only five months old, he already does a lot of work, including the work of getting a Pokeball, and the critical work of making sure that if anybody leaves granola on the kitchen table, he eats it. We call him Potato because the person we got him from does not speak English as her first language. And when she first showed us the puppy, she said, look at him. He is just little Potato. You touch his ears, Potato. You snuggle with him, Potato. And the kids were immediately like, Potato, Potato. His name is Potato. And we were like, no, we need to give him a proper regal name like the dread pirate Fireball Wilson Roberts. And they said, Potato, Potato. His name is Potato. And they won. But it is true. He is little Potato. He's good at snuggling. He's good at sitting. He's very good at pooping. He does it all day, outside, inside, anywhere. He's just a great dog. I know everybody thinks their dog is great, but Potato is, frankly, greater. Because our kids have serious lung and allergy issues, Potato was one of the only dogs that would work for our family. And boy, does he work. He's just a joy to go on walks with. And he's a great cuddler. He's a kind of dog called a Legoto Romagnolo, which I think you're supposed to say with an Italian accent, but I can only say it with a Southern accent for some reason. As he grows out of his puppy coat, he'll actually be less white and gray and more brown. And so in addition to being Potato, he will resemble Potato. Alright, some questions people have asked us. Is it cannibalism for Potato to eat Potatoes? No, just as it is not cannibalism for people named Venison to eat deer meat. I'm not sure why I picked that particular example, but I bet there's somebody named Venison. As it happens, Potato is not a huge fan of Potatoes, which is surprising because he'll eat anything. He'll eat small rocks and grass and this one kind of moss. He ate a 128 gigabyte memory card. And I would get mad at him, but I will remind you that like six years ago, I also ate a 128 gigabyte memory card. So I know, I know what it's like. I mean, to be fair, a memory card and a pretzel chip have almost the exact same thickness and overall weight. Does Potato know he has a tail? Seemingly no. Every time Potato sees his tail in his peripheral vision, he is astonished, thrilled, and slightly terrified. Can he do the format? Yeah, so it's really hard being a dog and I really struggle with it sometimes, but hope is still the correct response to the miracle of dog consciousness. Does Potato know his name? Potato! I don't know, it's, it's arguable. Has Potato been properly educated about tuberculosis? So listen, Potato dogs actually can get tuberculosis, but it's quite rare, so I don't think it's something you in particular need to worry about, okay? But it is the world's deadliest infectious disease among humans, and the thing you need to know about Potato is that it's curable, okay? So we don't have to accept the world that we're choosing right now. Here's a treat. Thank you for listening to my Ted talk. Does he like socks? Potato, look what I have. It's like Hank Green cancer sock. Potato, come! Oh, oh, Hank, Potato and I will see you on Friday.