Okay, I need to be quiet because I’m just outside his office. You can probably hear him through the door right now. He’s selling sketchy supplemental health insurance plans to senior citizens by phone using his talking buttons. It’s insane.

Here, walk with me because he’s demanding a double Puppychino latte. He insists I make it at home because he hates the waste of nonreusable cups. “HOME (pause) MADE, (pause) HOME (pause) PUPPY (pause) AIR MILK (pause) MOM,” he ordered with his buttons.

You see, two years ago, I got a few of these voice buttons for him to press with his corn-chip-scented paws. He caught on really fast; he’s some kind of a genius dog, and it was adorable. It started with “WALK” and “TREAT,” and quickly, he was putting together short sentences like “LOVE FOOD NOW” and “WINNIE PLAY HIDING.” Our lives were definitely enhanced by this other, now audibly sentient presence, albeit with my recorded voice chirping back at us.

I don’t remember programming the button rack to use the phrases “PART B,” “CO-INSURANCE,” or “100 PERCENT OF OUT-OF-POCKET COST COVERAGE FOR JUST PENNIES A DAY.” If I’m being perfectly honest, it was just a year ago that he stopped confusing “LEASH” and “SHEESH,” but that’s probably my fault, because I thought it would be cute if he had an attitude.

Bear with me while I use this frothing wand. Between you and me, I don’t know if he’s working for someone else or just developed this business idea for himself, but I’m pretty sure what he is doing is illegal. He seems to be fleecing senior citizens by getting their bank info after convincing them he has an impressive supplemental Medicare plan. I’m not entirely sure of the scheme, because he won’t give me the password for his computer.

Three months ago, we were just cruising along with the button conversations; he kept buttoning to me, “LOVE YOU, MOM,” and I would button him back, “LOVE YOU, WINNIE,” and we were so full of love and happiness. I mean, he could tell me when he had to do his business! Now, granted, I usually knew even before we had buttons, because he would just stand by the door, but it was so cute when he would button-speak a message to me, “POTTY PARTY (pause) NOW (pause) PLEASE,” and therefore be talking to me with my own voice. I guess it was slightly creepy, but you get it.

Then, last week, I came home from work and found him in my office. He swung towards me like Alex P. Keaton, sitting boyishly in my ergonomic chair. All the talking buttons had been rearranged and put on my desk.

“What’s happening, buddy?” I asked. "Wanna go for a walk?” And I kid you not, he put one paw to his lips in a shushing motion and pointed at a list of names and phone numbers on the computer screen with his other paw. He had the phone on speaker, and I heard an older woman on the other end of the line asking, “Will my monthly premium go up?”

I watched as he tapped out on his buttons: “NO (pause) GO (pause) UP (pause). GO OUT.” This clearly impressed the woman, and she agreed to purchase the insurance. Winnie pumped his paw, briefly muted the call, and pressed the talking button that said “YES.” He took down her info with some deft taps into the keyboard using his manicured claws—I use this great new grooming tool called “Pokes No More” to trim down his nails, which comes with a peanut butter mask for his face. Then he buttoned, “BYE BYE,” ended the call, sauntered over to the corner of the room, and took a giant dump. Classic Winnie.

Listen, I gotta run this Puppychino back up to him before I head out to pick up his dry cleaning and get him a Sweetgreen salad, and I know his order will be just an assortment of meat with a lot of specific instructions about the mixing, but just suffice it to say, maybe don’t go down this road with teaching your dog how to speak with buttons. If you do, you’ll find yourself quoting Winnie (whose words are in my voice, so it sounds like it’s me): “SHEESH.”