Shamus, Patrick and Michael always headed straight for the village pub after work, but today Shamus tells the boys he won't be joining them because his dog has died and he has to bury him.
After offering their condolences the other two head for the pub.
When two hours had gone past without a sign of Shamus, his mates decide he must be too depressed and that they had better go and fetch him back to the pub to cheer him up.
Getting to Shamus's house, they walk round to the back yard where they find a small hole, a slightly bigger hole, the dead collie in a big hessian bag and Shamus sweating away with a mattock at a third hole.
"Shamus lad, what are ye doing?" asked Michael.
"I'm doing what I said I'd be doing, I'm burying me bloody dog" said Shamus.
"But why are ye digging three holes, though?' asked Patrick
"Are those eyes of yours painted on, Patrick Doyle, ye great eejit? The first two weren't fecking big enough."
