by Tina Seymour Demoran Esquire, Seymour Law Firm PLLC
Well, apparently I have accidentally opened the door to an entire new area of Mississippi jurisprudence.
First, we had dogs.
And after recently participating in what can only be described as Puppy Paternity Court, I felt pretty comfortable discussing the canine division.
Then came:
“But what about the cats?”
Fine.
We handled the felines.
Cats have fur. I understand cats. I own a cat.
Well, technically, a cat allows me to live in the same house, purchase food, pay veterinary bills and clean the litter box while she maintains complete executive authority over the operation.
But close enough.
And then y’all just had to keep going.
“What about birds?”
“What about snakes?”
“What about lizards?”
“What about frogs?”
“What about bearded dragons?”
“What about tarantulas?”
No.
Absolutely not.
We are done here.
I am officially closing the Exotic Animal Division of The Little Law Firm on the Bayou before somebody walks through my front door carrying something in a ventilated plastic box.
I am staying over here with the Labradors.
They may try to eat my furniture and shoes.
But, so far, they haven’t tried to turn me into dinner.
Now, since I am actually a lawyer and occasionally feel obligated to slip some law into these posts, here is the Mississippi portion of today’s zoology lesson.
Mississippi does not have a special pet-custody statute.
As much as we may consider our animals our children — and Lord knows some of us absolutely do — Mississippi law generally treats pets as property when dividing assets in a divorce.
That means we are generally operating under Mississippi’s equitable-distribution principles.
So, legally speaking, there is no best-interest-of-the-bearded-dragon analysis.
There is no Albright analysis for Alvin the Alligator.
No guardian ad litem for Gary the Gecko.
No every-other-weekend visitation schedule for Steve the Snake.
No supervised visitation at PetSmart.
And unless Mississippi law has taken a truly unexpected turn since I checked this morning, nobody is calculating child support for a cockatoo.
Now, can divorcing spouses agree about what happens to their animals?
Absolutely.
If two grown adults want an agreement saying Roscoe the Golden Retriever spends every other weekend with Dad, Thanksgiving with Mom, Christmas morning with the children and two weeks every summer at Grandma’s, hand me a pen.
We can work with that.
But if somebody calls my office and says:
“I need emergency temporary custody of Pickles.”
My first question from this point forward is going to be:
“What species is Pickles?”
Because that matters.
Labrador?
Come on in.
Cat?
Absolutely. Although Pickles will ultimately decide where Pickles lives.
Rabbit?
Probably fine.
Horse?
Sure.
Goat?
Lord knows I can handle a goat.
But if your answer is:
“She’s a seven-foot boa constrictor…”
We may need to have a conversation before you arrive.
And let me add one caveat before the snake people come after me.
I am mostly joking about the snakes.
Mostly.
I really don’t want you walking into my office carrying one without prior warning like you’re bringing in a briefcase.
A little heads-up would be appreciated before I look up from a probate file and discover a six-foot reptile staring back at me.
And let’s keep this firmly to the non-venomous variety.
I actually owned a ball python when I was in college, and I loved him dearly.
So snakes themselves are not necessarily the problem.
Surprise snakes are the problem.
Venomous snakes are absolutely the problem.
And if your divorce settlement requires me to determine Thanksgiving visitation with a rattlesnake, I am going to suggest that perhaps some marital assets are best left uncontested.
And if Pickles has eight legs?
Please don’t even bring Pickles into the parking lot.
So I am going to stay peacefully over here in my little corner of Mississippi family law with the creatures that have fur, wag their tails, purr, occasionally eat my shoes and generally cannot slither underneath the conference-room door.
If your divorce involves a dog, cat, horse, goat, bunny or other reasonably fuzzy creature, we can talk.
If resolving your marital-property dispute requires me to open a terrarium…
Bring pictures.
Lots of pictures.
Because I have spent more than a decade practicing law on the Mississippi Gulf Coast, and apparently I have finally discovered my professional boundary.
It may have scales.
It definitely has venom.
And eight legs remain non-negotiable.
This is general information and humor about Mississippi law, not legal advice for your particular situation.
Reading this column does not make me your lawyer.
It also does not make me the lawyer for your spouse, your Labrador, your cat, your cockatoo, your bearded dragon, your ball python, your boa constrictor or whatever in God’s name is currently staring at me through the glass of that terrarium.
Bless its heart.
And please call before you bring it over.
Please do not hesitate to contact me with questions at (228)224-6781 or editor@thegazebogazette.com.
(Photo: scientificamerican.com)
