A woman brought a very limp duck into a veterinary surgeon. 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 and said, “I’m sorry, your duck Cuddles has passed away.” The distressed woman asked if he was sure, and he replied, “Yes, your duck is dead.”
“But you haven’t done any testing on Cuddles. He might just be in a coma.”
The vet left the room and returned a few minutes later with a black Labrador Retriever. The dog stood on his hind legs, put his front paws on the exam table and sniffed the duck from top to bottom. He then looked at the vet and shook his head. The vet left the room with the dog.
He returned to the room, this time with a cat. The cat jumped on the table, delicately sniffed the duck from head to foot, 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% certifiably, a dead duck.” The vet turned to his computer terminal, hit a few keys, produced a bill and handed it to the woman.
“A hundred fifty dollars!” she cried, “$150 just to tell me my duck is dead?!”
The vet shrugged, “I’m sorry, but if you had just taken my word for it, the bill would have only been $20. With the Lab report and the Cat scan, it’s now $150.”