Once upon a time, I was happily playing with my sister’s puppy when I suddenly noticed that his tag declared that he was…diabetic.

I grew confused, almost worried. How was it that this cute puppy could have diabetes? I threw my fists up into the air and screamed “What is wrong with the world that a puppy could be smited with such awfulness?”

She then proceeded to inform me that he wasn’t actually diabetic. The pet store lady-of-customer-service had advised her that it was wise to list an ailment/illness/issue on your dog’s tag even if it’s not true at all. The logic follows that, if your dog is lost, the stranger who found your dog will NOT do this:

Instead, they will do this:

I thought about this and decided that it was a very good idea. Hubby Z and I began to brainstorm ideas, trying in desperation to come up with something that would accomplish the following if the pups were to stray:

Days melted into weeks and then into months. Ideas and revelations came then went through the radiant cloud of sunshine that is Hubby Z and I’s collective brainstorming. We rejected thousands of illnesses and states of being that would frighten away even the most evil of evil pet stealers. It wasn’t until July 13th near midnight, that we finally made our decision. Now, eight days later, I present the following:

New problem discovered/Oopsy: We may have accidently put some awesome on the back of the tags instead of an expensive canine illness. Damn it.