Rose: I know I promised to take him back to the pound yesterday, but he wasn't feeling well. Frankly, Dorothy, I'm a little worried.
Sophia: Don't be, it was a hangover.
Rose: What?
Sophia: A hangover from the sherry.
Dorothy: Ma, you gave the dog sherry? That's terrible.
Sophia: I was having a few sips while I was rinsing out my underwear. It's a little thing I do Mondays and Thursdays only. Anyway, the dog walks in, looks up at me, and I swear it's your Uncle Aldo's face begging me for a drink. So I give the mutt a swallow, but he doesn't know when to stop, also like your Uncle Aldo. So we sing a little Puccini, stretch out on the couch and take a nap together. All in all, a pleasant afternoon.