Gonna get my dog really, really clean

A little kid went into a grocery store and picked out a large box of laundry detergent.  The grocer walked over and asked the boy if he had a lot of laundry to do.

“Oh, no laundry,” the boy said, “I’m going to use it to wash my dog.”

“Oh no, you can’t use this to wash your dog,” said the grocer. “It’s much too strong and if you wash your dog in this, he’ll get really sick. In fact, it might even kill him.”

But the boy refused to listen and carried the detergent to the counter and paid for it.  A week later, the boy was back in the store to buy some candy.  The grocer asked the boy how his dog was doing.

“Oh, he died,” the boy said.

The grocer said he was sorry, but added, “I tried to tell you not to use that detergent on your dog.”

“Well, the boy replied, “I don’t think it was the detergent that killed him.”

“Oh? What was it then?”

“I think it was the spin cycle!”

I believe my puppy killed your doberman

A nervous little man, wandered into a tough biker bar in the Bronx and clearing his throat asked, “Um, err, which of you gentlemen owns the Doberman tied outside to the parking meter?”

A giant of a man, wearing biker leather pants, full beard, and covered in tattoos, turned slowly on his stool, looked down at the quivering little man and growled, “It’s my dog. What of it?”

“Well,” squeaked the little man, obviously very nervous, “I believe my dog just killed it, sir.”

“What?” roared the big man in disbelief. “What kind of dog do you have?”

“Well sir,” whispered the little man, “it’s a four week old little puppy.”

“Bull!” roared the biker, “how could your little puppy kill my Doberman?”

“It appears that your dog choked on her, sir.”

I keep imagining that I’m a dog

A man walked into the office of the eminent psychiatrist Dr. Von Bernuth, and sat down to explain his problem. “Doctor, doctor!” he started.  I’ve got this problem,” the man continued. “I keep hallucinating that I’m a dog. A large, white, hairy Pyrenees mountain dog. It’s crazy. I don’t know what to do!”

“A common canine complex,” said the doctor soothingly. “Come over here and lie down on the couch.”

“Oh no, Doctor. I’m not allowed up on the furniture.”