Soon she would die. Such beautiful eyes, such silky hair. Muldoon wept by her side, knowing the end might soon be here. His dog and his best friend in life - how would he live without her?
Muldoon was a hermit. The local townspeople believed that he was also a miser. About the only people Muldoon ever got to see were treasure hunters sneaking around his old shack, looking for his buried money. The truth was that Muldoon didn't have a cent to his name.
Even as she was taking her last breath, knowing how greedy the local parish priest Father Patrick was, Muldoon plotted a way to win a memorial service for his dog Kitty. Muldoon wrapped Kitty in her old filthy blanket and carried her lovingly to town.
Muldoon went to the parish priest and asked, "Father, the dog is dead. Could you be saying a mass for the creature?"
Father Patrick replied, wrinkling his nose at the smelly blanket, "No, we cannot have services for an animal in the church, but there's a new denomination down the road. No telling what they believe, but maybe they'll do something for the animal."
Muldoon said, "I'll go right now. Do you think $50,000 is enough to donate for the service?"
Father Patrick asked, "Why didn't you tell me the dog was catholic?"