There was a very rich old Irish man who had a little dog.
It meant the
world to him. When the dog died he went to the
priest. "Father Murphy, my
little dog is dead. I'd sure appreciate it if ye'd say a
public mass fer
'im."
"Sorry, Patrick," said the priest, "we don't say mass fer
dogs 'n
the like. But you go on down there to the Protestant
church. With their
progressive thinking, who knows what they'll do!"
Well, Father, I wouldn't
want to offend them. Do ya think a donation of a-hundred-
thousand pounds
would be fitting fer such a service?" Patrick asked.
"Now, Patrick, why
didn't ye tell me that there little dog was
Catholic in the first place?!"
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