One hot July day we found an old straggly cat at our
door. She was a sorry sight.
Starving, dirty, smelled terrible, skinny
and hair all matted down.
We felt sorry for her and put her in a carrier and took
her to the vet.
She had no name so we named her Pussycat.
The vet decided to keep her for a day or so and said he
would let us know when we could come to get her.
My husband, [the complainer] said OK, but don't forget to
wash her, she stinks.
And he reminded the vet that it was his wife that wanted the
dirty cat, not him.
My husband and my vet don't see eye to eye.
He calls my husband El-Cheap-O.
My husband calls him El-Take-0.
They love to hate each other.
Next day my husband had an appointment with his doctor,
which was located next door to the vet.
The doctor's office was full of people waiting to see the doctor.
A side door opened and in leaned the vet; he
had obviously seen my husband arrive.
He looked straight at my husband and in a loud voice
said,
"Your wife's pussy is finally clean and shaved.
She now smells like a rose.
OH! And by the way, I think she's pregnant.
God knows who the father is!"
And he closed the door.
Now, that's getting even!
