Monday, December 22, 2014

Meow.

"Doc, my dog is real sick," the distraught man said, putting the limp animal on the examining table. The vet checked the pooch, then turned to the owner. "I'm sorry, he's not sick, he's dead." "No, he's not," the man insisted. "He's just sick." "Judy," the vet said, turning to his assistant, "bring the tabby in."


 The assistant placed a cat in front of the dog's nose. The cat sniffed at him, walked across his body and bit his tail. No response. Finally, resigned to the situation, the dog owner said, "OK, he's dead. What do I owe you?" "Eight hundred twenty-five." "Eight hundred twenty-five! What for?"  "Twenty-five for my fee," the vet replied, "and $800 for the cat scan."

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