This bloke came downstairs one morning and found his cat, lying very
still on the kitchen floor. Now he was very attached to the beast and
didn't like to think the obvious, so he took it to the vet to see if
there was anything could be done for it.
"Well," says the vet, "it looks a bit dead to me, but I can examine it
professionally if you like. But it'll cost you fifty quid." So the
bloke puts poor pussy on the table, the vet has a poke around eyes and
mouth and so on, turns round and says, "yes, I'm really sorry but your
cat is definitely dead."
"But I'm really fond of my cat," says the bloke, "can I have a second
opinion?"
"You can, but it'll cost you more," says the vet.
"Ok, Ok, anything."
So the vet opens the door and whistles, and in strolls a big ginger
tom-cat. It jumps up on the table, looks at the moggie, has a sniff,
looks at the vet, shakes its head, jumps down and walks out.
"There you are," says the vet. "The cat says it's dead. What more do
you want?"
"But look, my cat's special, isn't there any hope at all?"
"I could get a third opinion for you, but it really will cost you."
"Ok, I don't care, my cat is worth it to me."
So the vet opens the door and whistles again, and this time in walks a
big black Labrador. It jumps up on the table, looks at the cat, has a
sniff and a scratch, looks at the vet, shakes its head, jumps down and
walks out.
"I'm sorry," says the vet, "but there's no hope at all. I say your cat
is dead, the tom says it's dead, and the Labrador says it's dead. That
will be five hundred pounds please."
The bloke is pretty shocked by this. "You said it would be dear, but I
didn't expect that much. Why is it such a lot?"
"Well," says the vet. "Medical procedures are expensive. You could
have just taken my word for it, but no, you had to go for the full CAT
scan and lab tests..."