I suppose a true story can be counted as a joke if it makes you smile.
I once lived on the East coast of Scotland. A very elderly friend of mine bought a West Highland puppy and called him Willie. We lived alongside a beautiful estuary and would meet each morning to walk our dogs, watch seals etc. I would occasionally find my friend sitting on a raised bit of ground patiently waiting for his hound to desist from chasing rabbits. As the winter weather commenced he decided enough was enough so fastened 10 feet of string to the dog's collar, but this didn't help matters. He then added an empty washing up liquid bottle; this also did not aid matters. Finally he painted the bottle orange and filled it with small stones.
One Saturday morning a lady of our acquaintance, Jennifer, was walking towards us. She was bemused by my Labrador being chased by a ball of white fur, closely followed by an orange washing up bottle which rattled. She trod on the line, arresting the forward progress of said ball of fluff. Jennifer picked up the bottle and dragged the hound towards us, I noticed that my old friend had commenced crying. She then asked the question he had been waiting to be asked for months.
"What's this?"
He took the bottle from her hand and said, "Aye, that's the end of my Willie."
Both of us were nearly incontinent with laughter.
