Patrons of a pub mourned the passing of the bar's mutt, Spot.
They cut off his tail and framed it as a memorial.
Spot was about to enter heaven when St. Peter stopped him.
"Heaven's a place of perfection," said the saint. "You deserve to
enter but not without your tail. Go back and retrieve it."
In the middle of the night Spot scratched on the door of the pub.
"It's the spirit of our dear Spot!" exclaimed the bartender. "What
can I do for you?"
Spot said he needed his tail to enter heaven.
"Oh, sorry," the barkeeper replied, "but my liquor license doesn't
allow me to retail spirits after hours."