“Aussie, it’s your birthday! You’re 9 years old, almost ready for Medicare and Social Security. Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy—”

“Awww, shaddup.”

“Why should I shut up, Auss?”

“I don’t feel like celebrating.”

“Aussie, I know that it’s hard to accept that you’re aging, that happens to all of us. Things are changing for you. Just a few weeks ago we were doing our walk, I was thinking about something, and when I turned around to look for you, there you were, sitting.”

“You sit every day.”

“I sit in meditation, Auss. You weren’t meditating, you were resting.”

“How do you know? Maybe I was meditating.”

“You were tired, Aussie. That walk may have been too much for you.”

“Don’t tired people meditate?”

“This was different. You usually fly all over the place, sniffing here and there, chasing varmints of all sizes, but this time you were sitting on your butt, resting. There’s nothing wrong with resting, Auss.”

“I never rest; my life is too important.”

“Since then, I’ve noticed that you do that more often. Long walks take a toll on you now.”

“Listen, we have a much bigger problem than rest periods. The Mob is taking over the house.”

“You mean, the Mafia?”

“I’m talking about The Linguini!”

“Benny Linguini? The tiny 10-pound chihuahua/dachshund that arrived here over a month ago?”

“He may be pasta to you, but he’s The Linguini to others, also known as Noodles to his close associates. And he’s taking over this family.”

“He is not, Aussie. No one’s taking over our family.”

“Not our family, Da Family, dummy. When you say Da Family, everyone knows: That’s Mob talk. The Linguini is taking over.”

“Come on, Auss, Benny Linguini is so cute. He’s very shy, he runs away from me all the time unless—”

“Haha! Unless what?”

“Unless I have a treat for him.”

“That’s protection money, you idiot. If you don’t give him treats, he doesn’t disappear, you do.”

“Protection from what, Aussie? He’s so small, he can’t hurt a fly.”

“They got to Henry, didn’t they? Henry sleeps with the fishes.”

“He does not, he turned into food for coyotes, a very sad event that I still—”

“You refuse to see what’s right in front of your eyes. Who do you think those coyotes were?”

“Hitmen for the Mob? Four-legged?”

“Henry was clipped, I tell you. He was whacked. Popped, He was—”

“I get the idea, Auss. But then, who is Linguini?”

“The Linguini. He doesn’t want to be called Don Linguini, says we’re in America now. And he’s invited me to a sit-down for my birthday. I’m scared out of my mind.”

“You mean, a celebration? Some birthday cake?”

“No, stupid. He knows you’re going to make me steak and he wants to get his cut.”

“How much?”

“The whole thing. He may leave me the pan to lick; otherwise, he’s taking me for a ride.”

“You love rides, Auss.”

“Not that kind of one-way ride.”

“I’m sure you’re wrong, Aussie. Lori would have never brought a criminal into the house.”

“That’s how brilliant he is. Who looks at a chihuahua and thinks of a life of crime? The rational human, of which there are not many, think: That chihuahua is illegal, can’t talk English, call ICE. The one thing you don’t think is that it’s a capo, right? Do they even have chihuahuas in Italy?”

“Lori would not do that to us, Aussie.”

“Did you see the shoes she’s wearing in the photo—and please, don’t take any more photos, that’s become a dangerous thing to do. Those are cement shoes. If she offers them to you because you both wear the same size, make sure you say no, otherwise you’ll have lots of fish friends.”

“I’m sure you’re wrong, Aussie.”

“Woe is me, woe is me. Why am I not allowed to slide into old age slowly and gracefully? Why can’t I do what other retired dogs do?”

“What’s that, Auss?”

“Massacre deer and wild turkeys, like any civilized dog. Look at those ears. Do you know what they’re for?”

“Hearing?”

“For packing hardware! Why else are they so big? And do you know what his full name is?”

“Benny?”

“Benny the Finisher. Sometimes, Mad Dog.”

“Aussie, I don’t see any bodies lying around, so I think we’re okay for the moment.”

“He’s known for burying everything, doing a good, clean job. Woe is me, woe is me. I ask you, is this any way to get old?”