Poisoned Dog

Marco showed up wearing his usual fedora and trench coat. Marco was a shamus who stood barely five feet tall and talked like this--You gonna open up or do I have to bust some jaws?
I let him in and pointed to my sheepdog, Ralph, retching on the rug. Someone poisoned my dog with Raisinettes.I found the empty box.
Marco flipped his cigarette butt over his shoulder. He smelled of Chevis.
Any enemies?
Plenty. I work for the IRS.
Not you, hummus. The dog.
I don't know.
Maybe it's indigestion.
I think not.
Where's the video?
There is none.
He grabbed my shirt and squeezed.
There's always a video.
Marco sniffed the air.
I smell cat.
I own one. Muffy.
Where is it?
I don't know.
When did you last see it?
Two days ago. God. Muffy! Come to daddy!
We looked at each other, then at Ralph, still vomiting.
My eyes screamed. Those two  pets never did get along.