O’Brien lived alone in the Irish countryside for many years, with just his dog for company.
One day, the dog died, and O’Brien went to see Father Mullaney, the parish priest.
“Father, me darlin’ pup has passed on. I was wonderin’, could ya be sayin’ a mass for the poor creature?”
“Ah, I’m afraid not, we can’t be havin’ services for an animal in the church. But there’s a few Baptists down the road and there’s no tellin’ what they’re believin’ in. Maybe they’ll do somethin’ for the poor creature.”
“I’ll be headin’ off straight away, Father. Do ye think five grand would be enough to donate for the service?”
“Sweet Mary, mother o’ Jesus! Why didn’t ye tell me the dog was a bleedin’ Catholic?”
