A compliment for a compliment

A very rich painter did not have a family, but he had a dog that he loved like a son.

  The dog was ill – perhaps because the painter gave it too much food. The animal lay in the painter’s bed: it ate nothing, only drank a little water. The painter telephoned all the hospitals in the city, but when they heard that the patient was a dog, they refused to send a doctor.

   The patient sure the dog’s life was in danger. He telephoned one of the best doctors in London, but he did not tell him who the patient was. When the doctor came, the painter said, “I know you are a great doctor, and you don’t take care of dogs. But this is very important to me, and I hope you will not refuse.”

    The doctor was angry, but he said nothing.

    The next day, the doctor telephoned the painter and asked him to come to his house. The painter was sure it was about his dog. But the doctor, who met him at the door, said nothing about the dog. “I want to talk to you about my door,” he said. “I know you are a great painter, and you don’t paint the doors, but it is very important to me. I hope you will not refuse.