A wealthy English lord was taking his prize-winning Great Dane for a walk, when he decided to nip into the local pub. He tied the dog up outside, went in, and ordered a pint.
A few minutes later, a scruffy little chap comes into the pub, hat in hand, and says "Beggin' yer pardon, but who moight be ownin' that bloody big dog outside?"
The lord turns to him and answers, "That dog is mine. Why do you ask?"
The little guy says "Oim afraid my dog has killed your dog. Oim terribly sorry."
The lord is shocked. After gaping for a few moments, he chokes out "But, but, my dog is a full-size Great Dane! He's a brute! The size of a small pony! Good Lord, what kind of dog do you have?"
"He's a chihuahua, sir."
"A chihuahua?!? How in the bloody hell did a chihuahua manage to kill my Great Dane?"
"Oi think he got stuck in 'is throat, sir."