A duck was crushed.
Feek carried the limp duck into a veterinarian. The vet took out his stethoscope and listened to the bird’s chest as he placed his pet on the table.
After a few moments, the vet shook his head and said, “I’m sorry, your duck, Cuddles, has died.”
“Are you sure?” cried the distraught Feek. “Yes, I am certain. Your duck has died, “The vet responded.
“How can you be so certain?” he questioned. “I mean, you haven’t put him through any tests or anything. He could be in a coma or something.”
The vet rolled his eyes, turned, and walked out of the room. He reappeared with a black Labrador Retriever a few minutes later. While Feek watched in awe, the dog stood on his hind legs, placed his front paws on the examination table, and smelled the duck from head to tail. He then shook his head and looked up at the vet with mournful eyes.
The veterinarian patted the dog on the head and escorted it out of the room. He returned a few minutes later with a cat. The cat hopped onto the table and smelled the bird from head to toe. The cat sat back on its haunches, shook its head, softly meowed, and walked out of the room.
“I’m sorry, but as I said, this is very definitely, 100 percent undeniably, a dead duck,” the vet remarked to Feek.
The vet went to his computer terminal, pressed a few buttons, and produced a bill, which he presented to Feek.
Feek, still stunned, accepted the bill. “£150 just to inform me my duck is dead!” he exclaimed.
The vet shook his head, “I apologise. The cost would have been £20 if you had simply taken my word for it, but with the Lab Report and the Cat Scan, it’s now £150.”
What was that about inflation...