“OK, that’s it, I’ve had it.”

“Had it with what, Aussie?”

“I’ve had it with people. You humans aren’t doing anything for the Ukraine!”

“What do you mean? We’re sending money and weapons. 16,000 foreigners have gone to volunteer. We’ve frozen assets of Putin and his oligarch friends, taken Russian banks out of the SWIFT system of international banking, pulled out of big economic ventures and—”

“Has anything helped? Has it stopped the Russians from advancing one bit? It has not. It’s done nothing. Humans are pathetic. It’s time for me to step in.”

“Oh yeah, big shot? What are you going to do, Aussie?”

“We’re banning Russian dogs.”

“What?”

“All Russian dogs. No more Boris the Borzoi, no more Laika or Samoyed, no more Siberian Huskies—”

“Wait a minute, Aussie—”

“No more Caucasian Shepherds—”

“Aussie, you’re half Shepherd yourself!”

“I’m half German Shepherd, the good kind. No Russian dogs allowed anywhere. You’re not allowed to breed them, kennel them, show them in dog shows (which is a stupid thing to do anyway), or cast them in movies (except those made in Bollywood). You can’t buy Russian dog collars or leashes, no Russian treats or dogfood. THIS IS GOING TO HAVE AN EFFECT, JUST WATCH!”

“And who, pray tell, is we?”

“DAP, of course! Dogs Against Putin.”

“Aussie, what’s happening in Ukraine is not the fault of Russian dogs.”

“It doesn’t matter, everybody has to pay the price for what Putin’s doing. I’m giving up premium Russian dogfood with caviar. You can count on me to do my share.”

“Aussie, innocent Russian dogs might suffer.”

“Right now, nobody’s innocent in Russia. That’s the trouble with you humans, you’re such wimps. I wish I was back in Texas, no wimps there. No trans canines, either. A girl is a girl is a girl!”

“Aussie, we need a little restraint here, ok? Those poor dogs. Who do you think is the first to go hungry when the money gets scarce?”

“War’s war. Putin has to get the message, which they have to send by pigeon to get it across that big white table where he’s sitting. Do you see him at the end of that table? Tell me, who else is there?”

“His ministers, I think, or senior staff.”

“And who isn’t there?”

“Huh?”

“There’s no dog there! Do you see a canine anywhere around Putin? Do you see anyone leaning her head against that man’s leg, waiting for attention? For a big, juicy marrow bone on a weekend morning maybe, a little rawhide, or at least a Tricky Trainer with Salmon? Do you see a dog whispering to him to take things easy, drink a lot of water, throw a ball here and there? Do you see a pup chewing up a felt boot or getting comfy in a sable dog bed? I don’t. No canine, no canine influence. What do you get? War.”

“And who’s head of Dogs Against Putin, Aussie?”

“Need you ask? Moi.”

“Sounds like a big organization. How many members do you have?”

“One. We’re starting small.”

“What about diversity in DAP, Auss?”

“Diversity! Diversity! I hate that word. I hate it more than any other word—except Putin.”

“It’s good to bring in all kinds of different members, Aussie.”

“Like people?”

“No, like Henry, Aussie. Make him vice president.”

“Henry, vice president? A chihuahua in DAP?”

“Look what we humans are doing. Everybody’s joining the fight—the US, Europe, various countries in Asia, even Switzerland. Diversity pays off, Aussie.”

“No, no, no, DAP is an American organization, no foreigners allowed. Besides, how do you know Henry’s not a spy?”

“Oh Aussie, he lives with us. Surely, we’d know—”

“How do you know that Putin isn’t sending Henry to infiltrate DAP?”

“He may have other things on his mind right now, Auss—”

“Remember how he threatened to do things the likes of which we never imagined? Can you imagine Henry a spy?”

“No.”

“I rest my case.”