The most interesting part of my life is my dog

Last week in Professional Responsibility, our professor informed us that, statistically, 30% of third-year law students are clinically depressed. This is not shocking news; law school is basically designed to destroy human happiness by confining you to a windowless building, surrounding you with peers who hope you will fail so that they might succeed, and then heaping an incomprehensible amount of work on your shoulders.

In the middle of my deepest, darkest law school moments, I have turned not to alcohol, weepy music, binge eating or prescription drugs. I have turned instead to Joey, my wonderful spotted dog, who absorbs tears and frustration with equivalent grace, whose happiness at simple things like The Way Things Smell or Running Through a Park in the Sunshine is contagious. We should establish now that no one has ever loved a dog the way I love my dog, and if they have, they have certainly never told me about it.

If Joey could vacuum his hair off the floor, he would be a flawless companion. As it is, he does all the things of which he is physically capable, including lying patiently at my feet while I study, never disturbing me when I need to sleep in, and accepting a flexible feeding schedule when my days run long. He does insist, however, that we go outside regardless of weather, my work load, or my bad mood, and that once we are outside we appreciate The Way Things Smell, acknowledge all oncoming human traffic with wagging tail and smile, respectively, and recall that the larger world is a happy place.

It is so easy to make a dog happy, and being in the presence of canine happiness is an irresistible force. A dog is a cheap vending machine for happiness. I understand the statistics: the 30% of depressed 3Ls are the 30% denying themselves this easy therapy.

Royal Carribean, thou doth embody American excess and imperialism

I would like to preface this post by admitting that, had I not gone on a holiday cruise with my father and sister this winter, I would remain a person who has never seen a sea turtle or towel animal in person or visited a neighboring country. In all, it was a positive experience. But looking back, I can't help but notice how cruise ships so totally reinforce the American stereotype: we are a nation of obese, materialistic simpletons.

Let me just say, I don't think America is a nation of obese, materialistic simpletons. But if I went on enough cruises, I might become an obese, materialistic simpleton, a process described in three parts below.

I. Why Cruising Would Eventually Make Me (or anyone else, for that matter) Obese
Food is available at almost all hours on a cruise ship, and the average cruiser gains two pounds per day. Like calves fatted for slaughter or ritual sacrifice, cruisers are offered gourmet breakfast, lunch and dinner in the dining rooms, where there is no limit on how many appetizers, entrees or desserts you order. Should hunger or boredom strike between meals, the Windjammer Cafe offers buffet-style eating all day. And for those who get the munchies at the midnight pool parties, they may enjoy hot dogs, nachos, or a full Mexican buffet, depending on the evening. While cruisers are encouraged to use the few small swimming (really more like wading) pools, a modest rock climbing wall, and putt-putt course, these are not really the kinds of things that put the "activ[e]" in "activity."

II. Why Cruising Feeds Materialistic Tendencies
After feeding cruisers into complacency, the ship crew's second priority is advertising. A shopping preview is offered each day to illustrate all the souvenirs and jewelry cruisers will have an opportunity to purchase at their destination. In fact, the cruise lines' designated piers are surrounded by shopping, both before and after the security checkpoints, like any good mega-corporation. After one of the on-shore excursions marketed aboard the ship, cruisers are deposited in other shopping areas - in our case, downtown Cozumel, which is an unreasonable walk from the piers and basically requires that a cruiser pay taxi fare to get back to the ship.

III. Cruises Transform People into Simpletons
Apparently, the more cruises you take, the simpler you become. The couple we encountered who had taken one hundred and forty-odd (yes, between 140-150 cruises with Royal Carribean) cruises were not even clear on where the ship was going, let alone planning to debark at the destination. Royal Carribean discourages such habits as making your own bed or straightening your own stack of magazines. Invisible international employees who don't need to be paid in the realm of American minimum wage will take care of that the instant you leave your room.

The state of my horse ownership

Lately I have been distracted by showing at the Royal, Amanda showing at the Royal, a friend showing Diddy at the Royal, and planning my day around when I can make a trip to Tonganoxie to hang out at the barn. I have gone through periods where the horses weren't the first thing on my mind, but this isn't one of them. Unfortunate that this phase of the cycle should fall so near my final exams.

Diddy is banished to a pasture, where he and his buddy Sprite are enjoying free choice hay. Technically I am banished to my studies, which are pretty daunting, considering final exams are looming and I have yet to discover the secret code that decodes the tax code. (I'm aware that's an awful sentence. Mere reference to tax class muddles my brain.) Yet somehow I've still gone to the barn twice in the last week with plans to visit over the weekend.

It's hard to explain why I feel guilty about making time for something that makes me so happy. But I do feel guilty, the way I used to feel guilty about changing my undergraduate major to creative writing. Somewhere in elementary school I determined that fun things are not valuable things, and it's been a difficult notion to shake. According to this logic, tax dominates my life and is the fodder of constant waking nightmares; because it is miserably difficult, it must be of great value!

Today I drove through seamless rain to the barn, slogged through the mud to catch a very wet and very obese pinto mare named Sprite, and I was damp and shivering and smiling idiotically by the time we arrived back at the barn. Shame on you, Universe, for allowing me to enroll in Federal Income Taxation; but thank you, thank you, for horses.

Jessie

My little Westie died last week. One week ago tomorrow, my sister carried her into the veterinarian’s office, set her on the table, and held her head while she passed away very quietly a few seconds later.

I saw her over the weekend before, and spent Saturday night waking up every couple hours to make sure her saline drip was still administering a drop of fluid every four seconds and stroking her head. Pain or senility had eliminated her normal enthusiasm. When I came home over these several years since officially leaving the nest, she would greet me with a Westie grin, follow me everywhere, and whine quietly at the door when I left. Over the past few weeks, she was visibly declining. Her hearing disappeared entirely over the course of the last year, but until two weeks ago she was still eating with her usual vigor, demanding to be lifted onto the couch or chair to sit beside the family member of her choice, and greeting her best friend and contemporary Orange Cat when she was let outside.

I learned many things from a small white terrier. An early lesson was that a terrier will resist training that is inconsistent with her basic need to chase squirrels, follow scents, or nap on the sofa. Another was that charisma is far more important than coat color in being cast in such live theater productions as The Wizard of Oz. I learned that canine loyalty will lead your dog to continue sleeping outside your bedroom door for weeks after you leave for college, but that abandonment is not held against you in the least when you return to visit. I learned that a father can better combat loneliness when afforded a small white sidekick. And recently I learned that it is no tragedy at all to die at the end of a long, happy life with family members nearby.

I notice this week that other people I know have lost human friends and family members, which should probably make me feel ashamed of my own sadness. Instead I try to benefit from the reminder to appreciate everything and everyone I have the privilege of knowing and loving, and fondly recall a truly outstanding little dog named Jessie.

Interviewing, a play in three acts

Prologue: The way employment out of law school works in a ideal world/economy

Law school is not the traditional training program for lawyers. In fact, law schools are a fairly new invention; as few as two hundred years ago, there was no such thing. Prospective lawyers either studied independently or apprenticed for a lawyer until they were educated enough to pass the bar exam.

Part of that legacy is the modern manner that most law firms solicit new lawyers. While still in law school, you interview with employers who hope you will tentatively commit to becoming a part of their firm or office through summer employment. Summer associate or clerk positions are considered extended interviews, where you the student and "they" the firm can both decide whether you fit. The 1L summer is nonessential; the 2L summer is key. That isn't to say that some won't find great employment as 3Ls, but in an ideal economy, the 2L spends her summer at a law firm that plans to hire her after graduation.

Act I. The on-campus interview

At KU and many other law schools, the career services office invites employers to come to campus to conduct interviews. Employers choose a day; law students submit resumes, cover letters, transcripts, etc online; employers review the applicants' credentials and invite a certain number to sign up for interview slots. From those interviews, employers select students for call-back interviews.

Because of on-campus interviews, I spent about two weeks wearing one of my two suits to class every day. Since they're both gray, I imagine many people assumed I was wearing the same suit every day.

Also because of on-campus interviews, I received several invitations for call-back interviews.

Act II, The call-back interview

Employers call, inform the student they were happy to have met her, and hope that their colleagues could have the pleasure as well. Law firms invite her for a half-day of shuffling between offices and being taken to lunch; they present her with a generous check for travel expenses. DA's offices file her in, interrogate her, speed-walk her through the office and move on to the next interviewee. All of these interviews are fun and interesting. She becomes adept at walking fast in heels through all indoor terrain.

Act III, The call

From among the call-back interviews, a few will result in a call wherein the employer makes the student an offer for summer employment. Law firms pro-rate the starting salary of a first-year associate at the firm. DA's offices cough up slightly above minimum wage. All opportunities have their own appeal. Ultimately she chooses the law firm she enjoyed visiting most, though not the one offering to pay her the most. It is a happy day!

www.kmazlaw.com

Ultrametabolism

This is my second week on my whole foods diet, which has had some surprising results:

1. No noticeable weight loss. Since this was my main reason for going on the diet, I'm a little disappointed. But with the changes I've made, long-term weight loss seems inevitable, so I'm not too concerned.

2. No headaches. I usually have a little one every day (thanks, law school) and a big one every few days, but I have been doing well. Maybe it's the reduction in caffeine - not the elimination, mind you. The diet calls for that but it's the one thing I won't even kid myself about. I require caffeine to keep myself from passing out on top of whatever casebook happens to be in front of me.

3. Better skin. I don't know for sure, but I feel like my skin is continuing to improve, even though I haven't been outside. I credit the suntan and exercise for helping me out earlier this summer, but now that I am back to living a strictly sedentary and indoor life, I tend to think it's the diet change that's sustaining.

4. Money saved. At least, I think. My produce-heavy grocery shopping lists ain't cheap, but because I have to take my meals and snacks with me and I'm not spending a buck and a quarter on diet coke a few times a week, I think my overall food costs have gone down.

5. I have a serious whole food superiority complex already. True to form, I now can't keep my mouth shut when people comment on the contents/treatment of whatever serving of processed food they're about to eat. My friends are so patient with me.

Laura and Watson come to visit

Video from clinton lake dog park.

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