A woman brought a very limp duck in to a veterinary surgeon. As she lay 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 has passed away."
The distressed owner wailed, "Are you sure?"
"Yes, I am sure. The duck is dead," he replied.
"How can you be so sure," she protested. "I mean, you haven't done any
testing
on him or anything. He might just be in a coma or something."
The vet rolled his eyes, turned around and left the room, and returned a
few
moments later with a black Labrador retriever. As the duck'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 and took it out, and returned a few moments later
with a
cat. The cat jumped up on the table and also sniffed delicately at the
bird from head to foot. The cat sat back on its haunches, shook its head,
meowed
softly, and strolled out of the room.
The vet looked at the woman and said, "I'm sorry, but as I said, this is
most
definitely, 100 percent certifiably, a dead duck."
Then the vet 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. "£150?" she cried, "£150 just to tell me my duck is
dead?!"
The vet shrugged. "I'm sorry. If you'd taken my word for it, the bill would
have been £20, but with the Lab report and the Cat scan, it's
now £150."
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