One hot February 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 and get her.
My husband, [the complainer] said, “OK, but don’t forget to wash her, she stinks.”
My husband and my vet don’t like each other. 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, “Your wife’s pussy is finally clean and shaved. She now smells like a rose. And by the way, I think she’s pregnant. God knows who the father is!”
And he closed the door.
