FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, FINALLY.

I've managed to keep this from my blog for the past seven months, but now that my mum's court case is over, I think I'll post all the little details here, where all the world c an understand how much I loathe the American legal system. For starters, don't get me wrong. We've a pretty good legal system, but how great can any legal system be?

Starting point: Sunday, January 18th, this year. Chaos, Henry and Ruby, the family mutts (read: I'm a cat person.) maim a moose. Mostly Chaos and Henry and it was a calf, but still. These dogs brought down a moose. I think that gives any of you who haven't met them an idea of their size. Roughly 180 and 150 pounds, if you want actual figures.
Anyway, the moose is dispatched (A term used far too much in the proceeding days) and for two days we think all is more or less okay. Sure, we expect a fine, but what else?

Three days later, SCRAPS arrives at the house where I reside for what my mum thought was to take statements, but was, in reality, to cart away the three trouble-makers. The SCRAPS officer manages to lift and take away Henry and Ruby in his large vehicle, but finds himself unable to convince the largest idiot (Chaos) into the truck. Despite how angry she is with the officer (and my youngest sister home sick), my mum volunteers to take Chaos in the family mini-van to the shelter. She couldn't get up the driveway in the van, so she took him the next day after dropping me off at school.

You know what she did every day after dropping me off while they were in there? She went and visited them, everyday. Don't tell her, but one suspects she likes the dogs more than her offspring. I mean, really! She really did visit those dogs every single day. (This is also the period of time wherein my mum got into heated disputes with Nancy Hill, SCRAPS supervisor, about the treatment of our dogs, but that's a whole other can of worms, which I shall seal shut.)

So we had to fufill all the county requirements for owning a Potentially Dangerous Dog and two Dangerous Dogs (Ruby is only potentially dangerous, because all she did was bark at the moose.). This means a multitude of things, including but not limited to: keeping the dogs in a kennel with a roof (They could jump out!) pr the house at all times unless they're on a leash with a muzzle. Being walked by somebody fifteen or older (What the hell, really!?). This last bit was the most irritating as it left exactly three people in our house able to walk the damn mutts, my mum, my dad and me.

Moving forward, to March-ish. My mum loves to call this bit the time when we've been 'railroaded'. The dogs were, as she puts it, given an unfair trial (it wasn't really a trial, but I've forgotten what it was officially called.) and declared dangerous/potentially dangerous. This is the part my mother hasn't finished fighting 'gainst, but we're close enough to the end of the tunnel that I don't really care anymore. I got to actually attend this part as it was right after school and I couldn't yet drive.
This was actually the most embarrassing event for me, because my mum berated the prosecutor afterward and all I could do was stand there awkwardly and attempt to blend into the walls. (For the record, it doesn't work to press yourself against them and think beige beige beige.

Finally this week, my mum's trial came time and about three hours ago, came to its thankfully Not Guilty ending. FINALLY. I can stop hearing about this goddamned case. I'm sure that moose has already been reincarnated by now! Maybe I'm being a little selfish about this whole matter, but FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, I don't know if I can stand to hear about it anymore. And now that the whole messy matter's been documented right here, you won't have to either.

Now you should go read something actually interesting, like Ms. Miles' account of Japan so far. She's a far classier act than I.

Blissfully,
Murphs