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 duck, Cuddles, has passed away.” The distressed owner wailed, “Are you sure”?
“Yes, I am 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, and 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 s ad eyes and shook his head. The vet patted the dog and took it out, and returned a few moments later with a cat.
The cat jumped up on the table and also sniffed delicately at the bird from head to foot. The cat sat back on its haunches, shook its head, meowed softly 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 percent 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. “$150!” she cried. “$150 just to tell me my duck is dead”?
“The vet shrugged. I’m sorry. If you’d taken my word for it, the bill would have been $20, but with the lab report and the cat scan, it’s now $150.”
A couple made a deal that whoever died first would come back and inform the other of the afterlife.
After many years, the husband was the first to go, and true to his word, he made contact with his wife in a dream.
“Mary…Mary…” he called. “Is that you, Fred?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said. “I’ve come back like we agreed.”
“What’s it like?” Mary asked.
“Well, I get up in the morning. I have sex. I have breakfast. I run around the golf course. I have sex. I bathe in the sun, and then I have sex twice. I have lunch, another romp around the golf course, then sex pretty much all afternoon. After supper, golf course again, and sex again,” he said.
“Oh Fred, you surely must be in heaven!” Mary exclaimed.
“Not exactly,” Fred said. “I’m a rabbit on a golf course in Arizona.”