Let this be a warning to all of you horse owners, in the unlikely event that you are ever tempted to give your horse a rubber chicken.
A cowboy rode into a small town in Oklahoma and stopped at a saloon for a beer. What he didn’t know was that the locals had a habit of playing pranks on strangers. When he finished his beer and went outside, he found that his horse had been stolen.
He went back into the saloon, flipped his gun into the air, caught it above his head, fired a shot into the ceiling, and yelled, “Which one of you sidewinders stole my horse?”
No one answered.
“All right, I’m gonna have another beer,” said the cowboy. “If my horse ain’t back outside by the time I finish, I’m gonna do what I done in Texas! And I don’t like to have to do what I done in Texas!”
The cowboy had another beer, and when he went outside, his horse had been returned to the post. He saddled up and got ready to ride out of town.
The saloon keeper came outside and said, “Say, pardner, before you go — what happened in Texas?”
The cowboy said, “I had to walk home.”
Herbie was a regular visitor at the racetrack. One day he witnessed something unusual. Right before the first race, a Catholic priest visited one of the horses in the stable and blessed it. Herbie watched the race, and the horse the priest had blessed came in first.
Herbie followed the priest before the next race, and again he went to the stables and blessed another horse. Herbie bet a few dollars on the horse that the priest had blessed, and sure enough, the horse came in first and Herbie won close to fifty dollars.
The priest continued the same procedure through the next few races, and Herbie won each time by betting on whichever horse the priest had blessed. The system was working so well that between races he ran to the bank and withdrew $50,000.
Herbie got back to the track just in time for the last race of the day. Once again he followed the priest and noted which horse received the blessing, then he went to the betting window and put his whole bundle on that horse to win.
Then Herbie went to watch the race. But when the horses crossed the finish line, the one he’d bet on came in last.
Herbie was crushed. He found the priest and told him that he had been watching him all day, and all the horses he’d blessed had been winners except the last one.
“What happened to that last horse?” Herbie asked. “Why didn’t it win like the others?”
The priest sighed. “You Protestants,” he said. “You can’t even tell the difference between a blessing and last rites!”
Three race horses in adjoining stalls were arguing over which of them was the best.
“Of my last sixteen races, I’ve won ten,” said the first horse.
“Not bad,” said the second horse. “But of my last twenty-two races, I’ve won fourteen.”
“Impressive,” said the third horse. “But of my last twenty-nine races, I’ve won twenty-three.”
A greyhound who was lurking nearby overheard the horses arguing and decided to join the conversation.
“I don’t mean to brag,” said the greyhound, “but of my last forty-six races, I’ve won forty-four.”
The horses were clearly astonished. After a long silence, one of the horses said in an awestruck voice, “Wow! A talking dog!”