Pawdon me, but would anyone like to hear some dog jokes?

I was walking through the park the other day when I came across a man playing chess with his pet dog.

"That's amazing!" I exclaimed.

The dog was not phased, and he appeared to be in deep concentration as he peered down at the chess board. It must have been his move. The owner, an elderly man, glanced up at me.

"Whatchya want, laddie?"

"Your dog- that's astounding! You're playing chess with your dog!"

"Eh?" he replied, "The hound isn't anything special. Bloody beast has only won twice today."
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A man walks into a bar and sits next a blind beggar and his seeing-eye dog. The beggar leans in towards the new patron.

"Hiya fella. Say, hows about we get our wager on? I'll bet you twenty dollars that if I were to ask my companion here a couple of questions, he'd be able to answer them in perfect English," He says, beckoning towards the dog.

The man is suspicious, but, taking pity on the old man, accepts the bet.

"Alright, lets begin. Now Rover, tell me. What is the material you find on the outer layer of a tree?"

"Bark!" says Rover.

"Very good! Good dog!" exclaims the blind beggar. The bar patron begins to see where this is going, and is starting to get peeved.

"Ok now, Rover. Tell me, where are you going to find the golf ball when ol' Ben shanks his shot outta the tee box?"

"Ruff!" says Rover.

"Right again!" Ol' Ben clamors, "Hehe, of course, that isn't much of a difficult question. I mean, my golf game isn't what it used to be, is it boy?" he chuckles, patting his dog on the head and motioning to his eyes.

"Now hold on a second," says the man, "that's the weakest scam I've seen in years. It's my turn to ask 'Rover' a question. Ok, 'Rover'. Who was the 22nd president of the United States?"

Rover looks at the man blankly, then begins to growl.

"Grrr.. Grrrrr..."

"That's what I thought," snorts the man as he storms out of the bar.

The dog turned to his owner and says, "Was it Coolidge?"
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A man walks into a bar, and notices that a small crowd has formed in around a corner booth. Curious, he makes his way toward the gathering. As he approaches, he hears a high pitch voice that had a certain bravado in its ring.

"After my deployment in Afghanistan, the CIA relocated me to a mountainous region in Islamabad. I spent 3 stinking weeks gathering inconclusive intelligence on the 'illegalities of abusive goat herding,' all whilst living on stale biscuits and sleeping in a cave. Not a bitch in sight for 20 straight days."

The man locates the source of the boasting tale telling. A small, Jack-Russel terrier is perched on a bar stool, singing his legend to a crowd of intrigued bar patrons.

The man pulls out his wallet and, to no one in particular, shouts, "I'd like to purchase this dog! Where can I find his owner?"

A short, homely looking fellow stands up.

"Aye, that'd be me. I'll sell the rascal to ya for 200 dollars."

"200 dollars?! You've got yourself a deal! That seems pretty cheap for such an incredible dog," says the man.

"Incredible? Sonny, not only is this sonofabitch barking mad, but he's a goddamn liar as well. He dint do any of those bloody thing, did he?"