In this world, Grasshopper, there are dog people and there are cat people. I am a cat people. Dogs irk me. But:
Rosie, the first judicially approved courtroom dog in New York, was in the witness box here nuzzling a 15-year-old girl who was testifying that her father had raped and impregnated her. Rosie sat by the teenager’s feet. At particularly bad moments, she leaned in.
When the trial ended in June with the father’s conviction, the teenager “was most grateful to Rosie above all,” said David A. Crenshaw, a psychologist who works with the teenager….“She just kept hugging Rosie,” he continued.
Rosie is a golden retriever therapy dog who specializes in comforting people when they are under stress. Both prosecutors and defense lawyers have described her as adorable, though she has been known to slobber. — NYTimes
Look at her. Read the whole story. I’m no expert, and I haven’t even met her. But I’m willing to bet this dog just might be the best specimen of canoid that ever trod the earth.
From a legal perspective there’s a genuine problem. The jury sees the dog offering undiluted sympathy and comfort to the witness, and can’t help but be prejudiced against the defendant. And, as defense counsel pointedly noted, “There’s no way for me to cross-examine the dog.”
I never ever wanted a dog but Guido loves them and I wanted to
get my dick sucked preserve my happy marriage so we wandered over to the Humane Society and adopted Jersey, a lovely female golden retriever puppy. She improbably grew to over 100 pounds of clumsy licking, barking, shedding animal matter. But Jersey loved everybody. She would have loved home invaders, father rapers, axe murderers, and even Teabaggers had she ever met any. That was the nature of the breed.
Clearly, from the look and the description, Rosie and Jersey are soul mates, although doubtlessly the Rosie model comes equipped with the optional brain we passed on with Jersey. Legally, in the real world of applied justice and court proceedings, this creates a problem.
Jersey lasted about ten years. Now we have Tiqi — that’s short for Tequila, my second favorite thing because in a house filled with cats you can’t name a dog “Pussy”– who is mostly Belgian Malinois and not as bad a dog as I say she is (insists Guido, who has actually named the worms in her worm farm that she actually maintains not to impeach her credibility when it comes to animals) which I won’t argue because of see
strikeout text above. I may look dumb but I’m ugly.
But Rosie and this story really got to me — the unsentimental cat person — which made me think of sweet loving Jersey. So, in solemn remembrance, on Saturday night (the next full moon), I’m going to take Tiki down to the beach and cut her throat. I’m so sensitive.
Film at 11:00.
P.S. Whatever happened to Missing Lincoln?