Frank was a happily married man who had only one complaint: His wife, Myra, was always nursing sick birds. 

One cold November evening he came home to find a raven with a splint on its beak sitting in his favorite chair. On the dining room table there was a feverish eagle pecking at an aspirin tablet, while in the kitchen Myra was comforting a shivering wren. 

Frank dropped his briefcase and strode over to where his wife was toweling down the cold little bird. "Myra!" he shouted. "I can't take it anymore! We've got to get rid of all of these da..." 

Myra held up her hand and and cut him off in mid-curse. "Please dear," she said. "Not in front of the chilled wren!"