My vengeful satisfaction was fleeting. As I drove toward the courthouse, I knew that my freedom could be fleeting as well. My heart pounded in my furry chest. As we pulled up to the Old Red Courthouse in my vintage Amphicar, Mariah gripped my paw tightly.
Moments later, I was seated in the courtroom with my defense team. Sensing my nervousness, Johnnie Cochran gave me a rub behind the ears. "Keep your head up, pug," he said. "We're gonna get through this." Soon, the jurors filed into the courtroom, giving me uneasy looks as they took their places. My mind raced. I thought of all the hit songs I might never get to rap, all the panties I might never get to chew. Then my wandering mind snapped back to the courtroom.
"Yes, your honor. We the jury find the defendant guilty of grand panty larceny."
I was taken into custody, and my defense team began preparations for the sentencing phase of my trial. Although Johnnie had failed to secure my freedom, he did have one last stroke of genius. A week later, as the judge heard sentencing arguments, Johnnie persuaded him to convert my sentence to dog years. After my punishment was handed down, a pair of guards scooped me up and carried me away. My next stop would be the pound.
To be continued