DEAD DUCK
A woman brought a very limp duck into a veterinary clinic. As she laid her pet on the table, the vet pulled out his stethoscope and listened to the bird’s chest. After a moment or two, the vet shook his head sadly and said, “I’m so sorry–your duck, Cuddles, has passed away.”
The distressed owner wailed, “Are you sure? I mean you haven’t done any tests on him or anything. He might be in a coma or something.”
The vet rolled his eyes, shrugged, turned and left the room, returning a few minutes later with a black Labrador Retriever. As the bird’s owner looked on in amazement, the dog stood on his hind legs, put his front paws on the examination table and sniffed the duck from top to bottom. He then looked at the vet with sad eyes and shook his head.
The vet patted the dog on the head and led it from the room, returning a few moments later with a cat. The cat jumped up and delicately sniffed the bird. It then sat back, shook its head, meowed softly and departed the room.
The vet looked at the woman and said, “I’m sorry, but as I said, this is most definitely, 100 per cent certifiably a dead duck.” He turned to his computer terminal, hit a few keys and produced a bill which he handed to the woman.
The duck’s owner, still in shock, took the bill. “A HUNDRED AND FIFTY POUNDS!” she cried. “A HUNDRED AND FIFTY POUNDS just to tell me my bird is dead!”
The vet shrugged. “If you’d taken my word for it the bill would only have been £20. But with the lab report and the cat scan, it’s now £150.”
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