Nasreddin Hodja was very fond of liver. But every time he brought some home, his wife would seize the opportunity and give a party to her friends. Come evening, the Hodja would again be fed some soup or rice.

The excuse was always the same: "Ah, Effendi, that good-for-nothing cat of yours stole the liver and ate the lot!"

On one such evening, the Hodja could contain himself no longer. He sprang up, fetched the steelyard and, tying a handkerchief around the cat's middle, weighed it carefully. Then, turning to his wife, he said, "I thought so! The liver I brought home today weighed exactly one kilo. This cat here weighs one kilo too. Well, woman, if this be the liver, where is my cat!?"

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