A friend of ours came in at the opening this morning with his Boston Terrier in tow. Knowing that this Saturday we were going to taste some Irish Whiskey in honor of St. Pat's, (3-6pm) he was all full of good cheer because as he put it, "nothing can be more Irish than a dog bred first in Boston". We thought that was a bit of a stretch to say the least but he was proud as punch over his 4 legged friend.
We pondered on the visit for a bit when yet another of our buddies popped in from his morning tussle with the Post Office. He wasn't happy over something and then, when we told him about the visit of the Boston Terrier to our shop and showed him a picture, he got all sentimental on us - he had one as a kid and as we all know, those of us who have lost a pet, there is very little that is harder in life.
To break the rather somber mood, he proceeded to one of his long litany of jokes for all occasions - and with St. Patrick's day coming up, well here it is as best we can remember:
Muldoon lived alone in the countryside outside Boston with only a pet Boston Terrier for company. One day the dog died, and Muldoon went to the parish priest and asked, “Father, my dog is dead. Could ya’ be saying’ a mass for the poor creature?”
Father Patrick replied, “I’m afraid not; we cannot have services for an animal in the church. But there are some Protestants down the lane, and there’s no tellin’ what they believe. Maybe they’ll do something for the creature.”
Muldoon said, “I’ll go right away Father. Do ya ‘think $5,000 is enough to donate to them for the service?”
Father Patrick exclaimed, “Sweet Mary, Mother of Jesus! Why didn’t ya tell me that noble beast was Catholic?
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