Okay. A couple of weeks ago, and old man comes in, and says his dog is dying. And he begs us to save it. A 90-pound black lad named Seymour. We take him in and run some tests, and find that he has a twisted bowel, and needs to be operated on immediately. So we shave Seymour's tummy, we cut him open, and take out a piece of intestine about - about the size of a hot dog. Everything went smooth, but...