Yesterday my cousin had an appointment to take her sick and aged feline to the vet in order to relieve it of its pain and suffering. When it came time to get it destroyed, however, she couldn't bring herself to do it. My father volunteered to do it for her, and she organised an appointment for this morning. His actions were true to his word - this morning, while my cousin was out, he arrived at her flat, found the key under the mat, acquired the animal, and took it to the vet.
The problem?
He took the wrong cat.