My talking dog

Yesterday, Biscuit was Ginger the Talking Boy Dog.

He's crawling around on all-fours. He's barking his answers when you ask him a question.

He brought me a ball earlier, and I had to throw it across the kitchen floor so he could fetch it.

He pretends to lick my face, telling me those are doggie kisses. And he sits at my feet panting with his tongue hanging out.

"Sit!" I said to Biscuit. And he sat down.

"Lie down!" I commanded. And he did.

"Rollover!" I said. And Biscuit stretched out on the floor and rolled.

"Shake!" I said to him as I held out my hand.

Biscuit looked at me with a confused look, then started shaking all over.

I started laughing at him, and he put on a sad puppy face.

"Why are you laughing at the puppy, Mom?" Biscuit asked.

"I was asking you to shake my hand, not to shake your body all over," I explained to him.

"Oh," Biscuit said, and he started laughing, too.