A woman brought a very limp duck into a veterinary surgeon. The vet listened to the bird’s chest and sadly said, “I’m so sorry, your duck Cuddles has passed away.”
The woman protested, “Are you sure? You haven’t done any tests. Maybe it’s in a coma or something.”
The vet rolled his eyes, left the room, and returned with a black Labrador Retriever.
The dog stood on his hind legs, sniffed the duck from head to toe, shook his head sadly, and left.
Next, the vet brought in a cat. The cat jumped on the table, sniffed the bird carefully, shook its head, meowed softly, and left.
The vet looked at the woman and said, “I’m sorry, but as I said, this is most definitely a dead duck—100% certifiably.”
He then printed a bill and handed it to the woman.
Still in shock, she cried, “$250? To tell me my duck is dead?”
The vet shrugged. “If you’d taken my word for it, the bill would have been $50. But with the Lab Report and the Cat Scan, it’s now $250.”
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