Five:
"Mmmm mmmm mmmm?" said Brian's father.
"I don't know who it could be at this time of night," said Brian's mother. Brian's father answered the door and found Mr. Bannister, who lived across the street.
"Mmmm?" said Brian's father.
"Patrick," said Brian's mother. "It's three o'clock in the morning. What can we do for you?"
"Tom, Sally," said Mr. Bannister. "I know it's three o'clock in the morning. I received a visitor myself just now." Mr. Bannister held the little spotted dog as it ate from an open, soiled baby-diaper. "It knocked over my garbage cans. It says it belongs to you."
"Mmmm mmmm mmmm." Brian's father looked at Brian. "Mmmm mmmm mmmm."
"Please see that it doesn't happen again." Mr. Bannister left.
"Tom, how did he know the dog belonged to us?" said Brian's mother.
"Mmmm mmmm mmmm," said Brian's father.
"I also thought he said the dog told him," she said. "That can't be right."
"This dog talks," said Brian. "He's a circus dog."
"Mmmm." Brian's father returned to sleep.
"The dog hasn't been here a day," said Brian's mother. "Already I have to ask if you fed him."
"No, thank you," said the dog. "I 'ave already eaten."
"You see?" said Brian. "He talks."
"Don't play throwing your voice when I ask you a serious question," she said. "You say he's a circus dog?"
"That's what he told me," said Brian. "But I think he ran away, because he won't tell me which circus he came from..."
"—Brian, please," she said. "Just get the dog some decent food tomorrow and let's hope his owner contacts the police soon."
"Ok, Mom, thanks," said Brian.
"Merci, Mademoiselle," said Spot.
"Brian, don't let your Aunt Kelly hear you throw your voice," she said. "She doesn't always know when she's had too much to drink. There are few good occasions for her to see a dog talk."