We can only imagine how stressful it would be if one of our cared-fur crowd actually DID get loose. Just getting the damn chips registered turned out to be virtually an all-day proposition.
The good news to start the day was finding the payment information for Pepper's registration. We indeed did sign up for it in 2018- just a month or so later than I expected we had, but there it was in the spreadsheet. That led to Call The First to PetsiteNotTheirRealName dot com, after running all of our assorted emails through their website to try to track down the registration. It took well over half an hour on the phone- much of it on hold, with that most annoying combo of music (hummmmmmBOP bababababop hummmmmmBOP bababababop) and voiceus interruptus every 30 seconds telling us how important our call is to them. But finally, there was Stefan. Or possibly Steven. Or Stevedore. We weren't taking copious enough notes at this point. He pulled Pepper's chip right up- because, it turned out, this joint catalogs them by PHONE NUMBER and not email address on their end, despite their website being the complete opposite. Within minutes, we had the magic fifteen digits for the dog- saved to my computer files, printed and stapled to the dog's Permanent Record Card, copied to a password list, and we'd have considered tats if numbers on those weren't so creepy.
That, alas, was the end of the good news. We then moved on to Bronzini, whose chip was also one of their proprietary brand. Nobody said boo about whether they could be registered anywhere else, and in a fit of dopamine from the prior success, we got hornschwoggled into another 80-plus dollar "lifetime package," including access to their 800 number, a Petco gift card we might actually use and some other online shit we probably never would. But hey- a password reset was on the way for both of them, and at least Jack's registration with another playah in the chipping industry didn't cost nuthin'.
Then I went to work, and Eleanor went to weird.
The receipt showed right up, but the email with the reset never did. So Eleanor took the next two rounds of calls to them to straighten that out. More hummmmmmBOP bababababops, and finally Cathy with a C. Or possibly a K. Lots of apologies. No link. Either she or someone on a preceding or subsequent call actually told Eleanor the problem was with HER email address- which I had painstakingly spelled out for Stefanopolis and she for CateKateKale. Is there another email address you can use?, she asked, probably perkily.
Dunno, is there another registration site WE can use?
Turns out there is. As at least some people mentioned here or on Facebook, manufacturers cannot monopolize their chips. Long as you have the magic digits, you can register them pretty much anyplace for either no money or a lot less than Supersite With Kryptonite.
So when we both got home, it was on to Call The Fifth, hummmmmmBOP bababababa, and we talked to You Can Call Me Jay. We made clear right off that we were no longer interested in the Faboo Service we'd bought, and before he got to reading back StephaniePowers's explanation of the "nonrefundable" part, I read back to him a few lines from First Year Contracts about acceptances being conditioned on performance and they could either refund the payment or have the charge disputed and get Yelped into next year about their shitty service.
He quickly relented- and finally got us the email for the no-cost registration service. It's free because you have to do more work to find your pet if they get lost. I can't imagine it being any harder than this shit.
Besides, I don't see either of them leaving anytime soon:
That was them, in between all the calls, westing in their Westinghouse.
Pepper remains on the deluxe plan, because she does leave the house, sometimes even off leash briefly. This was on our walk yesterday:
We humans see a gorgeous tree;
To her, it's just a place to pee;)
We then spotted this in the window in the trail parking lot after our out and back:
I didn't realize Phil's shiva was over so soon. Either that or maybe he finally regenerated into Peter Capaldi.
Other loose ends from the past few days:
- Lawnmower remains in flux. My kludge to access the bolt worked, at least as far as getting the bolt out, but that handle continues to remain fixed in place. Only after all of that did we realize how far down to the base of the mower the anchoring goes. We have some other possible avenues to resolve it, and meanwhile, it's back together with screws in and bungee cord so it can be used in the meantime.
- Entertainmentwise, we followed Truly Madly Deeply with Anthony Minghella's follow-on directorial job to it, Mr. Wonderful. Matt Dillon, Annabella Sciorra , William Hurt and Mary-Louise Parker were the biggest names in it when it came out, although a very young and still-head-of-haired James Gandolfini makes a very un-Tony appearance in it. Last night, we went totally escapist with Thunder Force, a Melissa McCarthy-Octavia Spencer superhero tale that the Sad Puppies will hate and thus made us love it all the more. And tonight, we began watching the new HBO series Mare of Easttown, starring Kate Winslet with a perfect PA accent and set in the dark corners of the Delaware Valley. If you've heard of It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia, you can consider this equal time for the opposing viewpoint. Even the out-of-wedlock little kids in the premiere look like they're ready to suck their first baby beer bottle:
Let's go, Mare! This entry was originally posted at https://captainsblog.dreamwidth.org/1630124.html. Please comment here, or there using OpenID.