48 hours is a long time. I can drive to San Francisco in that time. Or build a small boat. Or catch a 24-hour flu, be bedridden, recover and make it to Toddy's in time for hotdogs and beer.
Or...
I can argue over how many dogs go to who in a goddamn divorce that I have otherwise settled weeks ago. 2 freakin' days debating over whether my client gets all 5 Yorkies or if hubby gets at least 2.
1. Three dogs is plenty.
2. what self-respecting man wants a Yorkie? Nevermind two Yorkies!
3. do you really want to pay me for this?
4. do i really want to do this type of shit? I mean, this is why I went to college, took the LSAT, went to law school for 3 years and suffered through the Bar? To stand up for Yorkies?
Maybe I can start a pet defense practice somewhere that a thing like that might work. Beverly Hills, probably. Set up office right next to the pet cemetary. Whats that, maam? that Rottweiler scared your toy poodle? well thats a clear case of Intentional Infliction of Emotional Distress! And I am sure little Fido will want an Order of Protection!
Justicia Enim Bestia
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More than three decades of life experience, several Degrees and fatherhood and I still sit here blogging about fart jokes and bad movies...ahhh progress!
1 comment:
Well, some lawyers need their little niches. You could be the pet lawyer. Could lead to a regular gig on the animal channel. Whatever the case, I'm just glad you, like me, have chosen to resume blogging.
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