Can we normalise ignoring dogs we don't know?

Here's a radical idea:

You don't have to say hello to every dog you meet.

And neither does your dog.

Somehow, we've got ourselves into a strange social expectation where seeing a dog means we should interact with it.

"Can I say hello?"

"Is he friendly?"

"What's his name?"

"Does he like other dogs?"

Or even worse, not even speaking to the human first — just diving straight onto the dog.

And if the dog doesn't want to interact?

Well, apparently that's a problem.

Maybe the dog is nervous.

Maybe they're overwhelmed.

Maybe they're reactive.

Maybe they're elderly.

Maybe they're in pain.

Maybe they're working.

Maybe they're learning to walk past people and dogs without losing their tiny furry minds.

Or perhaps — and stay with me here — they just don't want to meet you.

And that's okay.

Ignoring isn't being unfriendly

We seem to have this idea that a well-socialised dog should be happy to greet everyone.

People.

Dogs.

Children.

Strangers.

Dogs in Fadoras smoking ciggars.

Basically, if it has a pulse and walks past, apparently we're supposed to introduce ourselves.

But socialisation isn't about making a dog interact with everything.

Sometimes socialisation is learning:

"That dog exists. I don't need to do anything about it."

Or:

"That person exists and I don't care."

That's actually a pretty useful life skill.

Imagine if we expected humans to behave like dogs are sometimes expected to.

You're walking down the street and someone you've never met suddenly walks towards you.

"HELLO! CAN I HUG YOU?"

"No thanks."

"BUT I'M FRIENDLY."

"Still no."

"MY FRIENDLY DOG WANTS TO SAY HELLO TOO."

Please Foff and leave me alone.

Yet when a dog tries to create space, we often interpret it as a problem to overcome rather than communication to respect.

The dog who doesn't say hello isn't a problem

A dog walking past you without looking at you isn't being antisocial.

A dog moving away isn't being rude.

A dog hiding behind their owner isn't being difficult.

A dog who doesn't want another dog in their face isn't automatically aggressive.

And a dog whose owner says:

"Please don't let your dog come over."

doesn't need to justify that decision to you.

They might be working on something you can't see.

You don't know what happened five minutes ago.

You don't know what happened five years ago.

You don't know whether that dog has just had enough.

You don't know whether their owner has spent months building their confidence.

And you certainly don't know whether that apparently "friendly" interaction you're insisting upon could undo some of that work.

And this applies to your dog too

Here's the bit that I think we need to normalise even more.

Your dog doesn't have to say hello either.

You can walk past another dog.

You don't have to stop.

You don't have to let them sniff.

You don't have to let them play.

You don't have to let them "sort it out."

You can simply keep walking.

And your dog can learn that passing another dog is completely unremarkable.

Because honestly?

That's probably a much more useful skill than believing every dog we see is an opportunity for a playdate.**

Here's the funny thing about me...

If you didn't know better, you could probably think I don't actually like dogs.

Because I make a conscious effort to ignore them.

I don't automatically approach them.

I don't ask to stroke them.

I don't let my dogs rush over to them.

I don't encourage random greetings.

I will quite happily walk past a dog while pretending it doesn't exist.

And believe me...

This is HARD.

Because the truth is, I really, really want to say hello to practically every dog I see.

I want to know their name.

I want to know their story.

I want to stroke their ears.

I want to tell them they're gorgeous.

I want to know what breed they are, how old they are, where they came from and whether they've got any snacks.

I am, fundamentally, a dog person.

An embarrassingly enthusiastic dog person.

And that's exactly why I make myself ignore them.

Because my desire to interact with a dog isn't more important than that dog's desire not to interact with me.

That's a surprisingly important distinction.

Just because I want to say hello doesn't mean they want to say hello.

And just because my dog might want to say hello doesn't mean the other dog wants to say hello to them.

Sometimes loving dogs means putting our own excitement aside and giving them space.

"But my dog is friendly!"

Brilliant.

I'm genuinely pleased for you.

Your dog may indeed be the canine equivalent of Julie Andrews singing The Hills Are Alive.

But friendly doesn't mean entitled to another dog's space.

Your dog being friendly doesn't tell you whether the other dog is comfortable.

And "he only wants to say hello" doesn't magically make the other dog's boundaries disappear.

We should teach children that they shouldn't run up to strange dogs and hug them.

Perhaps we should also teach adults that sometimes the polite thing to do is simply walk past.

Let's make ignoring dogs normal

Imagine if seeing another dog became boring.

Not exciting.

Not stressful.

Not:

"OMG! A DOG! WE MUST INVESTIGATE!"

Just...

"Oh. There's a dog."

And we carry on.

No drama.

No forced greetings.

No retractable lead extending 14 miles across the pavement.

No owner shouting "HE'S FRIENDLY!" while their dog launches itself towards yours like a furry cruise missile.

Just two dogs existing in the same space without being expected to interact.

Because sometimes the best social interaction is no interaction at all.

And maybe that's something we should start teaching our dogs — and ourselves.

You don't have to meet everyone.

You don't have to like everyone.

And nobody owes you a hello.