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The Wrong Pocket
“Hey, you sure you’ll be okay out tonight?” called Tony Centro, Emma Centro’s new husband.
The couple was visiting New York, and Emma had a ticket to Broadway that night, but Tony had an aversion to musicals, so she was at it alone.
“Yeah, I’m sure,” replied the grinning petite blonde.
She took a cab to the show, which was in all respects, marvelous. The cast received a standing ovation at curtain call. By the time Emma left, it was late, and she decided to take the scenic route to the bus stop, as she’d splurged at the theater gift shop, and didn’t want to pay the cab fare.
The plasma in the neon signs glittered brightly in the distance as she turned the corner to a less traveled street that led to the bus stop. She had paused under an awning as it started raining. A few minutes later, a ropy hand seized her shoulder, and she spun to face its owner. “Sir?” she whispered nervously, her eyes shiny with unspoken fear. “WHAT!” His breath was rank with beer. Then a shrill scream split the drum of rain on pavement.
The man had gone for her purse, attempting to wrench it off her arm. When he failed to do so, he ripped the buckle open, digging inside to retrieve the contents. A series of strident screams made Emma Centro cringe.
“WHAT THE-“
A rat sized furball clung to the base of the burly man’s thumb as he traipsed down the street, yelling various obscenities.
“HEY! Give me back my dog!” Emma ran after her fleeing assailant.
“I hope you realize, he’s recovering from rabies!”
“WHAT!”
She dug in her purse for her cell phone, promptly dialing nine one one.
“Hello, operator, I’ve just been mugged.”
“Of how much?”
“A Chihuahua, nine ounces.”
“What?”
“A pickpocket relieved me of my dog. He’s still here, trying to get her off his hand.”
The poor dog yelped loudly as her hind quarters contacted a brick wall. It’s jaws released the mugger’s hand, and she fell, silent and limp to the pavement. The man high tailed it, leaving Emma to tend to her injured pup.
At the ER, a man came in, bleeding profusely from a score of tiny puncture wounds. The nurse sutured the lacerations an administered a tetanus and rabies vaccination. The patient glanced at the bill and then guffawed loudly, proclaiming; “You gotta be kiddin’ me! That freakin’ dog! That woman’s gonna pay fo’ this!”
He fingered a set of pet identification tags that lay in his pocket.
Angel Centro, a nine ounce Chihuahua was undergoing surgery for a compound fracture at Urban Vets inc.
Several sessions of physical therapy would follow. Emma was nonetheless relieved that her pet would survive.
Tony Centro, however, was not at all amused at his wife’s close call.
Two weeks later, when the couple and their dog were safely back home in Wisconsin, the telephone rang.
“Hello, Centro Residence.”
“This is the Riaan Law Firm. Our client has filed suit against you.”
“Excuse me!” Tony Centro was baffled.
“We were calling to verify your address. Seventy three Independence Boulevard? We will mail you the claims. Thankyou.”
Tony scowled, cursing at the kitchen cabinets as the phone line went dead.
After three months of preparation, Riaan Law Firm contacted the Eastern Maple Law Associates to initiate a court of claims hearing. On the morning scheduled, a blond sat in the defendant’s chair, glancing wryly at an agitated man known as Zachary Palmer.
“Please state your case, sir,” called the court attendant.
The plaintiff shifted in his seat, pulling on the too-tight tie that he was unaccustomed to wearing.
“I as uh, in the crowd near Broadway on the sidewalk, and I bent over to tie my shoe, an’ here comes this woman’s dog, biting me. Costed me three hundred dollars. And I got nerve damage from that bite.”
“Defendant, if you please.”
“Excuse me?” Emma sputtered.
“May I clarify the circumstances? I was on my way to the bus stop, when Mr. Palmer grabbed me by the shoulder. He attempted to relieve me of my purse, but when his hand entered it, my Chihuahua latched onto him.
When he slammed my dog against a wall to make her release his hand, she received compound fractures in both her hips. The treatment cost approximately fifteen hundred dollars.”
The judge turned crimson and then began laughing.
After presentation of the evidence, the court attendant announced “case dismissed.” The grinning defendant nodded, already contemplating the wording of her countersuit.
