Judge Yeck’s ancient clerk sat at a table in one corner, doing her crossword and trying to stay awake. After a few minutes, Judge Yeck walked through the door behind his bench and said, “Remain seated.” No one had attempted to stand. Formalities were dispensed with in Animal Court, also known as Kitty Court. The judge was wearing his usual outfit-jeans, combat boots, no tie, an old sports coat, and he conducted himself with his usual disdain for his job. He had once been in a law firm but couldn’t keep a job. He ran Animal Court because no one else would do it.
“Well, well,” he began with a smile, “it’s Mr. Boone again.”
Theo stood and said, “Hello, Judge. Always nice to see you.”
“And you. Who’s your client?”
“Miss Petunia Plankmore, the owner of the animal.”
Judge Yeck looked at some papers, then looked at Buck Baloney. “And who’s Mr. Boland?”
“That’s me,” Buck said.
“Very well. The parties can come forward and we’ll try and work things out.” Theo knew the routine, and he and Miss Petunia stepped through the small gate in the bar and took a seat at a table closer to the judge. Buck followed them and sat as far away as possible. When they were in place, Judge Yeck said, “Mr. Boland, you have filed this complaint against Miss Petunia. You go first. Keep your seat and tell us what happened.”
Buck looked around nervously, then plunged in. “Well, Judge, I work for All-Pro Security and we have the contract for the Farmer’s Market.”
“Why are you wearing a gun?” the judge asked.
“I’m a security guard.”
“I don’t care.”
“And I have a permit.”
“I don’t care. I don’t allow guns in my courtroom. Please remove it.”
Buck grabbed his holster and snapped it off his belt. He placed it and the gun on the table.
“Up here,” Judge Yeck said, pointing to a spot on his bench. Buck awkwardly stepped forward and placed the gun right where he was told. It was a very large pistol.
“Now go on,” Yeck said when Buck returned to his seat.
“And so anyway, it’s my job to provide security at the Farmer’s Market. There are two of us, me and Frankie. He works the west end, and I watch the front. Been doing it for a few months. And Miss Petunia here has a booth near the front entrance where she sells flowers and herbs, and right next to her booth is a small open area where she keeps her llama.”
“That would be Lucy?” Judge Yeck asked.
“Yes, sir. Two Saturdays ago I was walking by her booth, same as always, just doing my job, you know, when this llama walks up and stares at me. We’re about on the same eye level, me and the llama, and at first I thought she might try and kiss me.”
“The llama kisses people?” Judge Yeck interrupted.
“She’s a very sweet llama, loves people, or most people,” Miss Petunia blurted.
Judge Yeck looked at her and politely, but firmly, said, “You’ll get your chance in a moment. Please do not interrupt.”
“Sorry, Judge.”
“Continue.”
Buck sucked in his ample gut and went on: “Yes, sir, the llama kisses people, especially little kids. Kinda gross if you ask me, but there’s usually some folks hanging around to get a better look at the llama, and occasionally she’ll sort of lean down and kiss one of them.”
“Okay, okay. We’ve established that Lucy the llama likes to kiss people. Now move on.”
“Yes, sir. Well, like I said, the llama walked up to me. We stared at each other for a few seconds, then the llama raised her nose straight up, which means she’s not happy, then she sort of cocked back her head and spit in my face. A lot of spit, too, not just a couple of drops. It was gross, sticky and smelly.”
“The llama spits at people?” Judge Yeck asked, amused.
“Oh, yes, Judge, and she did it real quick like. I had no idea what was coming.”
April’s mother, May Finnemore, was a loud woman with rough manners who could be counted on to do the wrong thing. She laughed, and made no effort to conceal it.
“That’s enough,” Judge Yeck said sternly, though he himself seemed ready to chuckle. “Please continue, Mr. Boland.”
“Got it.”
“There were some kids watching, and I think they knew this llama was a spitter, and as soon as she spit in my face the kids cracked up laughing. It was very embarrassing and it made me mad, so, after I wiped my face off, I walked over to Miss Petunia and told her what happened. She said, ‘Well, Lucy doesn’t like you.’ And I said, ‘I don’t care if she likes me or not, she can’t be spitting at people, especially security personnel.’ She didn’t apologize or anything, in fact, I think she thought it was funny.”
“Is this llama on a leash or confined in some way?” Judge Yeck asked.
“No, sir, it is not. It just sort of hangs around Miss Petunia’s booth. There are always some kids petting it and making a fuss. So we discussed the matter for a few minutes and I realized the owner was not going to do anything about it, so I decided to walk away, to cool off and to wash my face. But I kept an eye on the llama, and I think she kept an eye on me. Part of my job is to watch the front entrance. Sometimes people will try and leave with stuff they haven’t paid for, so I gotta keep ’em honest, you know what I mean, Judge?”
“Of course.”
“And so anyway, about a half an hour later, I’m doing my job and I walk past her booth again. Didn’t say a word to her or to the llama. I stopped and I was talking to Mr. Dudley Bishop and I felt something behind me. He stopped talking. I turned around and there was the llama again, staring at me. Before I could back away, she spit in my face for the second time. It was just as gross as the first time. Dudley is here as my witness.”
From a folding chair in the audience, Mr. Dudley Bishop raised his hand.
“Is all this true, Mr. Bishop?” the judge asked.
“Every word of it,” the witness replied.
“Continue.”
“Well, I was pretty upset. People were laughing at me and everything, so I wiped my face off and went over to Miss Petunia. She had seen it happen and she was not at all concerned. She told me to stay away from the llama and things would be fine. I explained that I had a right to do my job and the problem was hers, not mine. Do something with her lousy llama. But she refused. I cooled off again and tried to keep my distance. If I got close to the entrance, the llama would stop whatever it was doing and give me a dirty look. I talked to Frankie about it and suggested we swap places for the rest of the morning, but he wanted no part of the llama. He said I should call Animal Control, which I did. The officer came out and had a chat with Miss Petunia. She said there is no city ordinance requiring llamas to be on a leash or confined in some way, and the Animal Control officer agreed with her. I guess it’s okay for llamas to roam the city at will, spitting at people.”
“I didn’t realize this was a problem in Strattenburg,” Judge Yeck observed.
“Well it is now. And there’s more to the story, Judge.”
“Continue.”
“Well, last Saturday it happened again, only worse. I was keeping my distance from the animal, doing my job as best I could, trying to avoid it and not even making eye contact. I didn’t say a word to Miss Petunia or anybody else around there. The other lady there, Mrs. Finnemore, has the booth next to the flower stall where she sells goat cheese, and she has this spider monkey who hangs around, attracting customers and increasing sales, I think.”
“What does the monkey have to do with the llama?”
“I’ll tell you. Sometimes the monkey will sit on the llama’s back, sort of ride it around, and this always gets a lot of attention. Kids hang around and take pictures. Some of the parents even take photos of their kids posing with the llama and the monkey. Well, this one little girl got scared and started screaming. I walked over, and as soon as the llama saw me she bolted and ran at me. I didn’t get within thirty feet of her, but she attacked anyway. I didn’t want to get spit on again, so I moved back. She kept coming, with the monkey hanging on like some cowboy. When I realized the llama meant business, I turned around and started running. The faster I ran, the faster the llama ran.
