Lasagna cut in. “Your Honor, I know we’re almost out of time, but I’d like to say a few final things before you make your decision.”
Sweetie nodded. “You have the floor, Lasagna.”
The corgi lawyer batted his tie straight and coughed once to clear his throat. He shuffled his papers and found the one with his speech written on it. “Your Honor, I come before you today not just as Buster’s representative, not just as the best Dog Court lawyer in South Carolina, but as a member of a growing movement in the dog world: those who believe we should, at last, take our rightful place beside humanity. Not as pets, but as equals.”
Buster’s ears flattened, concerned. Wasn’t this supposed to be his trial? Shouldn’t Lasagna be here just as his representative? I didn’t sign up to be a “growing movement,” he thought. But he’d told his story. There was nothing more for him to do.
“I, in communication with my fellow dog lawyers around the world, have discovered something concerning: Incidents like Buster’s, where humans have needed a dog and a dog has risen to the challenge, have been happening everywhere. Times are changing! But it would appear that wherever possible, the Court has gone out of its way to hide this from us.”
The crowd of dogs was fully awake now—and Buster was surprised back into attention.
But I’m the “Miracle Dog,” right? he thought. I’m the only one.
Deep down, though, he knew he couldn’t be. He remembered how easily Mozart, Jpeg, and Leila were willing to help Mia. Lasagna also seemed to be on his side … and that was just in Bellville. If every town had even just a few dogs that agreed with him, then there had to be thousands. At least!
“By sending these dogs to The Farm—and then refusing to acknowledge their contributions—you are preventing us from moving forward as a species.”
Pronto growled, furious. “This is nonsense, Your Honor. We have seen the horrors humans are capable of. And though I am honestly tired of reminding everyone what this trial is about, we are not here to discuss movements, or other dogs, or changes to the law. We are here to decide if Buster has broken Dog Law, as it stands, which he absolutely has. I don’t understand why we are still talking!”
It was like all the cute and squeaky layers of Lasagna had been peeled away, leaving just a layer of sauce and meat. This was what the corgi really cared about. This was what mattered to him. “If we don’t change things now, Your Honor, then when?” he asked. “Dog Law, as Pronto said, has been in place for centuries. It has been hurting and limiting us for centuries. When do we decide that enough is enough?”
“We don’t,” Pronto argued. “Do you claim to know better than the generations of dogs who came before us? We are happy, and comfortable, and safe for a reason. That all changes if we give in to what he’s suggesting. It’s chaos.”
The court was starting to rumble now. Dogs who agreed with Lasagna were arguing with dogs who agreed with Pronto. Buster turned his back to the judge for the first time and watched schnauzers and dachshunds working through the same thing he’d been working through with Tonio. Was it worth it to help a human? Was it worth it to do everything you can with the life you have? Even if it’s risky?
Lasagna proclaimed, “The second Dog Law, which I have not heard the representative for the Law mention much this evening, states: ‘Dogs must do their best to protect all living things, even food.’ Dogs who have chosen to become service dogs have an even greater responsibility to their humans. Buster was acting true to his purpose, and was given an impossible decision to make.”
Judge Sweetie shook her head, draping fur swishing with every movement of her long face. Finally, she spoke. “The decision was not impossible, and Buster has admitted himself that he knew he was breaking Dog Law. In my position as judge, I have only one choice: The Farm.”
Buster’s heart sank with the crowd’s volume. So that was it, then. He’d told his story, and it hadn’t mattered. He was no closer to seeing Tonio again than he had been before.
“With all due respect, Your Honor, what kind of dogs are we if we let humans suffer just because we’re scared?” Lasagna barked clearly and powerfully; he’d practiced this speech. “So many of us believe we need to take responsibility for the world. The whole world, and not just dogs.”
“I have made my decision,” the judge said.
At these words, Pronto relaxed and looked over to them with a faux-sympathetic expression. “I’m so sorry, Lasagna. It was a good try, but your little ‘movement’ ends here.”
Lasagna ignored him and underspoke to Buster: I’m sorry.
Buster squeezed his eyes tightly closed and imagined what Tonio was doing. He was probably in his room, pacing, worried about Buster and wondering when he was coming home. Or lying on his bed, panicking. Buster tuned out all the carnival music and the crowd of dogs and thought: Had he done enough? Had he helped Tonio enough in their time together to change his life? Maybe he wouldn’t ever know. And maybe he should be worried about the rest of his life.
His thoughts were interrupted by a bark that pierced through the air, yelled from the back of the bumper car arena.
“Your Honor!” Officer Sergeant called. “Permission to interrupt!”
The judge banged her squeaky gavel to quiet down the crowd, then spoke. “You already have,
