Oct 29, 2012 3 min read

I know I shouldn’t care, but I am a little vain about my driver’s license photo. There are opportunities to show the license only so often, and as I age they become fewer and further between. (I can’t get “carded” if I try these days!) And, since my old picture was halfway decent, I have been in no great hurry to get it retaken, despite the fact that technically, my license expired about 8 months ago. I paid for the renewal, so I am legal; I just have to show my old photo and my current paper update should I ever get asked for ID. Regardless, I had finally decided to go and have it done. I had to take our dog to the vet, so I planned to drop her off, run errands, and then return to pick her up. I selected a shirt that I would be OK with seeing myself wear for the next three-plus years, took care with my hair, put on some makeup and a nice pair of earrings, and got ready to embark. As I bent over to clip a leash on my dog, I saw something that stopped me in my tracks and gave me the heebie-jeebies. I saw a flea crawling on my pup’s back leg. Then it leapt onto me. Now, not being one to overreact, I didn’t scream. Instead, I squealed, “Ewww,” while dancing backward and brushing at myself until I lost feeling in my leg, and then spun around and led the dog to the tub. Perfectly legitimate response, if I do say so myself. I put the dog in the tub and grabbed some shampoo. I put the dog back in the tub and grabbed a towel. I put her in the tub a third time – this time keeping a hand on her collar – and turned on the water. My dog is half Labrador and has webbed feet, but finds the water involved in bath time repugnant. It often takes two of us to keep her in the tub and get her lathered. Alone, I wet her down and soaped her up. She tried to dodge left, and then right. I reached for the shower head to rinse, and she crouched and then pounced. I got her back into the tub but nearly ended up in there with her. When I finally decided that she was clean enough, I pulled her out of the tub. I wrapped her in a towel and began to dry her. Then I walked over to the mirror to assess the damage to my ensemble and discovered a soaked shirt, suds in my hair, and smeared mascara on my face. Add to that the crazed look that was still in my eye from seeing the flea in the first place, and I figured I knew why the dog was so keen on escaping my clutches. I was downright scary-looking! Additional-costume-not-required scary. I changed my clothes and washed my face. But I crossed the photo center off my errand list because I know Murphy’s Law. A horrible driver’s license photo guarantees that you have to show it for one reason or another to everyone. And I simply don’t want carded that badly.