On the subject of tails...
The landlord had owned his pub for fifteen years, the day that he opened a friend gave him a puppy who he named Toby as he was no bigger than a Toby Jug.
At fifteen Toby had enjoyed a good life, greeting the the regular customers, barking like crazy when one night thieves broke in. Of course he enjoyed the occasional taste of beer and was eager to taste test the pub grub whenever possible.
The landlord was sad when Toby passed away and when a regular who practised taxidermy offered to stuff and mount him, the landlord was tempted, but Toby wasn't a small dog and so the landlord asked for just his tail to be stuffed and mounted, enclosed in a nice glass case with a little engraved plaque commemorating his life.
All good dogs go to heaven, but when Toby arrived at the gates, St. Peter stopped him. "I'm sorry Toby, but I can't let you in because you're not all here, your tail remains on earth, encased, on display." Toby is somewhat nonplussed and asks if an exception cannot be made. Filled with compassion, St. Peter offers Toby a solution, he will gain the gift of speech and be returned for just one hour, if he can get back his tail, all will be well.
The landlord was just locking up as the apparition of Toby scratched at the door. Upon entering the pub the landlord was overjoyed to see his companion once again, stunned speechless when Toby spoke to explain his dilemma.
The landlord knelt down, stroked his friend gently and with tear filled eyes, he said...
"I'm sorry Toby, but I can't retail spirits after hours..."