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I wasn’t going to let Rosie walk around without tags and give some cop an excuse, so I did the good–citizen thing. The clerk didn’t even blink when I put down “Taurus Uniqua” as her breed.
You pay the money, you get a dog license, no questions asked. But if you want AKC credentials, you have to paper the provenance. Otherwise, you can’t enter one of their oh–so–special shows. The Nazis would have loved the spectacles those “dog lovers” put on: the winner is the one who comes closest to the physical perfection template. Blue blood, blue ribbon, big bucks. That’s why some breeders “cull” their litters. Can’t have below–standard pups running around; those defective genes could pollute the perfection pool. A German shepherd with a spotted coatnow, that’s a sin against nature.
I had her microchipped, too. Things happen. If she was running loose, a Good Samaritan might get her to a shelter. The phone would ring at Mama’s, and one of us would go get her. Plus, I didn’t want some Animal Control idiot stopping Gateman’s wheelchair for walking Rosie without tags. I consider it my civic duty to prevent violence.
Another Life, pp. 80-81
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