One December 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 so we put her in a carrier and took her to the vet. We didn't know what to call her so we named her “Pussycat.” The vet decided to keep her for a day or so. He 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.” He reminded the vet that it was his WIFE (me) who wanted the dirty cat, not him.
My husband and my vet don't see eye to eye. The vet calls my husband “El Cheap-O,” and my husband calls the vet “El Charge-O.” They love to hate each other and constantly “snipe” at one another, with my husband getting in the last word on this particular occasion.
The next day my husband had an appointment with his doctor, who is located in the same building and next door to the vet. The MD's waiting room was full of people waiting to see the doctor. A side door opened and the vet leaned in. Obviously he had seen my husband arrive.
He looked straight at my husband and in a loud voice said, ”Your wife's pussy doesn't stink any more. We washed and shaved it and now she smells like a rose. Oh, and by the way, I think she's pregnant. God only knows who the father is!” Then he closed the door.
Now THAT, my friends, is getting even!
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