The old man was ninety years old and his son, Mundre,
who himself was now seventy years old, was trying to get him placed in a nursing home. The place was crowded and Mundre was having difficulty.
"Please," he said to the doctor. "You must take him in.
He is getting feeble minded. Why, all day long he sits in the bathtub, playing with a rubber Donald Duck!"
"Well," said the psychiatrist, "he may be a bit senile but he is not doing any harm, is he?"
"BUT," said Mundre in tears, "IT'S MY DONALD DUCK."
