Pockets

The duck’s name was Gertrude, and she guarded the bridge. The cat’s name was Harry, and he wanted to cross the bridge.

“Stop” cried out Gertrude. “You aren’t allowed to cross this bridge. This bridge is for verified passport holders, and you don’t have a pocket to hold a passport.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t have one,” said Harry. “My wife is on her way, and she has plenty of pockets to hold passports.”

“Oh?” The duck inclined her head in interest. “A cat with pockets?”

“Why, no!” said Harry, sitting back, his tiny face holding a vague look of offense. “She’s not a cat. She’s a Kangaroo.”