Subj:  DOGGED OUT
 
  A timid little man ventured into a biker bar in the Bronx and,
  clearing his throat, asked, "Um, err, which of you gentlemen owns
  the Doberman tied outside to the Harley Davidson with the skull and
  crossbones?"
 
  A giant of a man wearing biker leathers with his body hair growing
  out of the seams turned slowly on his stool.  He looked down at the quivering little man and said, "It's my dog.  Why?"
 
  "Well," squeaked the little man, very nervous, "I believe my dog just
killed it, sir."
 
  "What?"  roared the big man in disbelief.  "What in the hell kind
  of dog do you have?"
 
  "Sir," answered the little man, "It's a four-week-old poodle puppy."
 
  "Bull!"  roared the biker, "How could your puppy kill my Doberman?"
 
  "It appears that he choked on it, sir."