Mitzie in Judge Judy Angel Court

Mitzie had not expected to be called as a witness.

She had been dead for some time.

This had been largely pleasant.

There were fields. There were smells. There were no leashes, although leashes were available for dogs who found the complete absence of leashes disorienting.

Mitzie did not.

She was summoned on a Tuesday.

There were no Tuesdays in Heaven, technically, but the angels had discovered that administrative proceedings worked better when everyone pretended there were.

JUDGE ANGEL JUDY'S COURT

Court was already in session.

Judge Angel Judy sat behind an enormous white bench wearing reading glasses halfway down her nose. Her wings were folded tightly behind her.

She had the expression of an angel who had been hearing human explanations for several thousand years and had ceased being surprised by any of them.

Mitzie entered.

Her tail began wagging.

"Stop that," said Judge Angel Judy.

Mitzie stopped.

Her tail continued.

Judge Angel Judy made a note. *Witness has no control over posterior.

"Mitzie, you lived for fourteen years in an ordinary household?"

"I did, Your Honor."

"And you were loved?"

"Very much."

"And you loved the humans?"

"Very much."

Judge Angel Judy looked down at the file.

"We have a particular question concerning one of them."

Mitzie waited.

A woman was sitting at a table beside several photographs.

Judge Angel Judy lifted one.

"Apparently your affection has been entered into evidence."

Mitzie looked interested.

The photograph showed Mitzie on her back having her stomach rubbed by the woman.

Another showed Mitzie licking the woman's face.

In another, Mitzie appeared to be attempting to climb directly inside the woman through her sweater.

Judge Angel Judy looked over her glasses.

"She says you loved her."

"I did."

The woman smiled.

"Adored her?"

"I suppose."

The woman smiled more broadly.

"Above the others?"

Mitzie looked confused.

"No."

The woman stopped smiling.

Judge Angel Judy looked at the file.

"It says here that whenever this woman entered the house, you became extremely excited."

"That's true."

"You ran to her?"

"Yes."

"Wagged your tail?"

"Violently."

"Jumped on her?"

"I wasn't supposed to."

"But you did."

"Frequently."

"Licked her face?"

"If available."

The woman Amanda smiled again.

Judge Angel Judy looked at her.

"So you contend this demonstrates that Mitzie was particularly attached to you."

"She adored me."

"I didn't ask for an upgrade. I asked whether the dog was particularly attached to you."

"Yes."

Judge Angel Judy turned to Mitzie.

"Were you?"

"No."

There was a pause.

Mitzie scratched behind her ear.

"I did that with everyone."

"Everyone?"

"Pretty much."

"The mail carrier?"

"Absolutely."

"The neighbor?"

"Which one?"

"Mr. Henderson."

"Oh God, yes. Loved Henderson."

"The plumber?"

Mitzie's tail began wagging.

"Is Kevin here?"

Judge Angel Judy made a note.

Amanda shifted in her chair.

"But surely Mitzie knew who loved her."

Judge Angel Judy looked at Amanda.

"That's a different assertion."

"I loved her."

Judge Angel Judy turned back to Mitzie.

"Did she?"

"Oh yes."

The woman relaxed.

"Thank you."

"But she didn't take me to poop."

The woman looked at Judge Angel Judy.

Judge Angel Judy looked at Mitzie.

"I'm sorry?"

"She didn't take me to poop."

"Is that relevant?"

"I don't know. You asked if she loved me."

Judge Angel Judy slowly removed her glasses.

"Continue."

"She didn't feed me."

Judge Angel Judy made a note.

"She didn't take me to the veterinarian. She didn't brush me. She didn't bathe me. She didn't clean up when I threw up. She didn't sit on the floor with me during thunderstorms. She didn't check my paws when I limped. She didn't give me medicine. And she left the house to live somewhere else and left me behind.”

"Did she play with you?"

"Not particularly."

"Walk you?"

"No."

"Who did those things?"

"The other humans. One who would pull on my leash and yell ‘make!” which didn’t make sense. It made it harder to poo and pee actually."

Judge Angel Judy looked toward the woman.

"What did this woman do?"

"Oh, she made a tremendous fuss when she came through the door."

"And afterward?"

"I usually went and lay down somewhere out of the way."

Judge Angel Judy leaned back.

"Yet you greeted her with extraordinary affection."

"Yes."

"Why?"

Mitzie thought this was an odd question.

"Because she came through the door."

Judge Angel Judy stared at her.

Mitzie stared back.

"Mitzie, would you characterize yourself as indiscriminate with your affection?"

Mitzie considered this.

"I was indiscriminate about affection. I admit that, Your Honor."

The woman made a small sound.

"It was one of the qualities that endeared me to most humans."

"Explain."

"Humans liked animals who loved them immediately."

Judge Angel Judy put down her pen.

"They weren't as interested in the ones who were standoffish. Or frightened. Or suspicious. Or the ones who required effort and time."

"So being easy was advantageous?"

"Extremely, Your Honor."

"You knew this?"

"I don't know if I knew it. I was a dog."

"Fair."

"But being easy was beneficial to my position."

The courtroom became quiet.

Judge Angel Judy looked at the photographs again.

In every photograph Mitzie looked ecstatic.

"Then what exactly does your affection establish?"

Mitzie looked at the woman.

Then at Judge Angel Judy.

Then at the photographs.

"That I was affectionate."

"Nothing about her?"

Mitzie thought for a moment.

"She had hands."

Judge Angel Judy waited.

"She used them to pet me."

"Anything else?"

"She liked being loved."

Amanda stood.

"I did love you."

"You loved being loved."

"I adored you."

"You adored being adored."

"You always looked so happy to see me."

"It was what you expected and it benefited me."

"Then what are you saying?"

Mitzie tilted her head.

"I'm saying it benefited me to be affectionate at least some of the times."

Amanda stared at her.

Mitzie's tail thumped once against the floor.

"I was happy to see you. I was affectionate. I was trusting. I was easy to love. I liked your hands. I liked attention. I liked almost everybody. I thought you would care for me and keep me safe.”

Amanda thought about this.

"I once loved a tennis ball for six years."

Judge Angel Judy covered her mouth.

"It was a very good ball."

"Mitzie."

"Sorry, Your Honor."

Judge Angel Judy turned to the woman.

"So the dog's affection cannot be submitted as evidence of your character."

"But she loved me."

"I’m not disputing that, but her love or affection is not evidence that you were a good person."

Judge Angel Judy picked up her pen.

"Mitzie loved or was affectionate to many people. Including some repairmen and few boyfriends."

She made a notation beside the exhibit.

EVIDENTIARY VALUE: NONE

Amanda stared at it.

"But doesn't being loved mean something?"

Judge Angel Judy looked at Mitzie.

Mitzie looked back.

She had known humans long enough to understand that this was not really a question about dogs.

"Yes," Mitzie said.

The woman waited.

"It means somebody loved you."

Judge Angel Judy nodded.

"The court agrees."

She picked up the photograph one final time.

"The affection of an indiscriminately affectionate animal establishes the character of the animal, not the character of the recipient."

She stamped the file.

EXHIBIT B: INADMISSIBLE

Amanda began to cry.

Mitzie immediately walked across the courtroom, rested her head against the woman's knee, and wagged her tail.

The woman bent down and hugged her.

Judge Angel Judy closed her eyes.

"Mitzie."

Mitzie looked up.

"What?"

"You're confusing her."

"I know."

"You just testified that this behavior does not mean what she thinks it means."

"Yes."

"And now you're doing it again."

"She looked sad."

"Mitzie."

"Yes, Your Honor?"

"You're undermining my ruling."

Mitzie's tail thumped against the floor.

"I'm a dog."

Judge Angel Judy banged the gavel.

"Next case."

A long haired cat sauntered in and was immediately stroked by the bailiff.

“Bailiff!!” roared Judy.

“Sorry Judge. They are just so fluffy sometimes.”

Note: Humans regularly mistake adaptive behavior for evidence of their own goodness. But affection, compliance, agreeableness, loyalty, and even apparent happiness can be survival strategies. Dogs do it. Children do it. Spouses do it. People living with difficult people do it.

Sometimes being easy, affectionate, agreeable, or undemanding is simply beneficial to one's position. One could argue that is all it really is in reality.

Being loved is not proof that you loved well.

Being loving is not evidence of loving, either.

Good luck in the real world!

—Judge Angel Judy