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 sadly and said, I'm so sorry, your pet has passed away. The distressed owner wailed, Are you sure? Yes, I'm sure. The duck is dead, he replied. How can you be so sure, she protested. I mean, you haven't done any testing on him or anything. He might just be in a coma or something. The vet rolled his eyes, turned around, and left the room. He returned a few moments later with a black Labrador retriever. As the duck's owner looked on in amazement, the dog stood on his hind legs, put his front paws on the examination table, and sniffed the duck from top to bottom. He then looked at the vet with sad eyes and shook his head. The vet patted the dog, took it out, and returned a few moments later with a beautiful cat. The cat jumped up on the table and sniffed the bird from its beak to its tail and back again. The cat sat back on its haunches, shook its head, meowed softly, jumped down 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. Then the vet turned to his computer terminal, hit a few keys, and produced a bill, which he handed to the woman. The duck's owner, still in shock, took the bill.