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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