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A woman brought a limp duck into a veterinary clinic. Gently, she laid her pet on the examination table as the vet pulled out his stethoscope and listened to the bird’s chest.

After a moment, the vet shook his head and sighed. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but your duck, Cuddles, has passed away.”

The woman gasped. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure,” the vet replied. “Your duck is dead.”
“But you haven’t done any tests!” she protested. “He might just be in a coma or something!”

The vet rolled his eyes but left the room without another word. A few minutes later, he returned with a black Labrador Retriever.

The dog stood on his hind legs, placed his front paws on the table, and sniffed the duck from head to tail. Then he looked up at the vet with sad eyes and shook his head.
The vet patted the dog and led him out of the room. Moments later, he returned with a cat.

The cat gracefully leapt onto the table, sniffed the duck carefully, then sat back, shook its head, meowed softly, and strolled out.

The vet turned to the woman. “I’m sorry, but as I said, this is most definitely, 100% certifiably, a dead duck.”

He walked over to his computer, typed a few keys, and printed out a bill.

Still in shock, the woman took the paper and gasped. “$150?! Just to tell me my duck is dead?”

The vet shrugged. “Well, if you’d just taken my word for it, the bill would have been $20. But with the Lab Report and the Cat Scan, it’s $150.”