…not licensed to actually do anything, but among all the things that needed to be done for the move north, getting a license for Sydney was not high on the list. I was, however, instructed by the bossy man at the dog run that she had to be licensed to use the facility. Doing it online turned out to be more difficult than I initially thought, so I went to the local contract post office/title /fed ex/dog, boating, fishin’, huntin’ license/lotto ticket office. It’s quite informal, as you can imagine, and the man behind the counter seems to know everyone who comes in and why they are there. I was unfamiliar with the concept of a post office that really isn’t a post office but was excited that it was so convenient. And, when I had to fed ex overnight new time sheets to work, that is where I went. I was told to wait for the person that does that kind of thing. (Obviously there is a division of labor based on specialty.) She was having family issues so had to make some phone calls that might take a while, I was told! While I waited, I asked if the nice man behind the counter knew where I could get a license for my dog. “Right here,” he replied.
So, I began the process of answering his questions — I was not allowed to fill out the form myself — about Sydney’s color, breed (brown), etc. Then I asked “how much?” “Six dollars,” he said, “unless you’re a senior citizen.” When I said I certainly was a senior citizen, I was told I just saved $1 of the $6 fee! Done! I walked out with the tag to put on Sydney’s collar, did that, and then forgot about it . . . until last week.
My cousin, Jill, was visiting from Tallahassee and looked at the third tag on Sydney’s collar. She asked me how the person issuing the license knew that Sydney was a senior citizen. What? It seems that the tag has the designation “senior citizen” right on it because I got the $1 discount. Sydney was offended, of course, since in dog years she’s not really a senior yet!