Steal My Luggage - Steal My Cat (and he's not declawed)

Standing in the taxi cab line at O'Hare is when you'll often find me at my weariest. Wondering how I'll fare in the lottery of knowledgeable or lost cab drivers.
I found an unexpected smile on my face the other week when I looked down at the suitcase of the man in front of me and saw a blonde smiling toddler looking back up at me, sucking on her hand. A photo luggage tag.
His granddaughter, he explained. Adorable, I replied.
And an excellent way to make sure no one else is taking your luggage out of the overhead by mistake.
Of course, I don't have babies to put on my possible tags, so it'd probably be Jason and the cat. Which might be the best thing to be reminded of when I'm away from home.
(Including Jason in the tag is important so that no one thinks I'm just a lonely cat lady. A disclaimer that I didn't have the cat until I met him would be even better, but there's only so much room on a luggage tag.)