Another important resolution for 2011: Periodically check Oliver’s I.D. tag to make sure it’s still legible. We have this silly notion that if stainless steel has been engraved, then it’s, well, engraved. Which tends to mean forever.
This was brought home to me the other day when a friend called to say she’d picked up a dog that had been wandering the streets. Did he have tags? I asked. Yes, indeed, but it would take a Navajo code-talker to make out what was once written on the red metal heart. That meant the lost Labrador had to spend at least one night in the animal pokey and his folks would probably have to fork over a couple hundred bucks to get him sprung.
I mean, who looks at their own dog's tags? It was just by chance that I saw Oliver's a few months ago. Half the phone number had been rubbed to a shiny, perfectly flat surface. And, the elements had shortened his name to Olive. We got in line at PetSmart's instant-tag machine the next day.
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