Hello world! All About Me…
November 1st, 2008Welcome. Legally speaking, that is. I’m not going to make you sign a Waiver. I won’t demand a Retainer. I won’t even sue your Derriere for Trespassing.
What’s in it for me? Call it a second chance. An Appeal from the Highest Court. I’m on a mission. You see, the wizard forgot to give me a soul and unless I can find some guy named Pro Bono, I’ll never be a real boy. More about that in a moment.
Exhibit A. The Banner At The Top of This Page. That’s me and my gal, Lady J. They say I’m her pet. I like to say that as in all good relationships, she is blind to my evil ways. And may it please the Court as much as it pleases me, what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. At least she won’t need the Witness Protection Program.
I’ve always been clean-shaven, but in my day I was taller than 9 inches. From hall monitor to killer attorney, no one got past Mad Dog. Look at me here, cleaning up the streets.
It was all going according to plan until one day when I was looking particularly fine in my $5,000 Italian suit and gleaming Rolex. There I was, about to step into my $500,000 sports car, and then suddenly… there I wasn’t. A dumpster filled with God-knows-what fell twenty stories. I would have sued the bastard for everything he was worth and a hundred times more, but unfortunately, I was by that time married to the pavement.
I awoke, appropriately enough, in a courtroom. But there were clouds, lots of them. And through them I was able to see a Judge. It was Abe Lincoln. I call him “Abe” because we’re very close. Well, he certainly seemed to have done well for himself. From Lawyer to Judge. Although a real cut in pay. But, God knows… maybe he got his own syndicated show. Anyway, enough about him. Back to me. After a review of some of the high points of my life, he concluded that I had taken the term “lawyer” to a new low. I thought, “This can only be good. I’ll be on my way downstairs in no time. I have an in with the guy who runs the place.” But he said, “Hell is too good for you. Why would I send you down to hang out in the rec room with all your friends and associates? Your sentence is to return to the land of the living…to serve mankind with kindness, not lawsuits… and most importantly… without any billable hours.” Talk about cruel and unusual punishment.
And so I was sent back to the land of the living to learn the meaning of something called “unconditional love.” I had returned as a pet. A pet lawyer. To bring happiness and joy to a family I had previously impoverished. Not that being a pet is always a bad thing. I mean, Leona’s pooch, Trouble, got $12 mill out of the deal. But I don’t have a dime to my name. I’m counting on Lady J. to do something about that. And, in the meantime, anyone have Trouble’s number?
Contact me at blogs@mypetlawyer.com
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