Reasons to Not Allow Strangers to Pet Your Dog

I was out with a good friend a few weeks ago shopping for the holidays. I had one of my board-and-train dogs, a fabulous and lovable golden retriever named Leroy, with me to have our outing double as some public access training. We ran some drills while perusing items in the stores and finally stood in line to check out the items my friend and I had selected.

I knew it was coming. An employee of the store scrunched down with his hands on his knees to make direct eye contact with my board-and-train dog while we were waiting in line, and began cooing at him. I’m proud to say that Leroy, eager to get all the attention he can get at all times, did a great job regardless of holding to his training under that distraction, and sat steadfast by my side despite the siren song of squeaky-voiced strangers.

“Can I pet him?” the employee asked, already inching forward.

I politely declined: “No thank you.”

It wasn’t long before that interaction repeated itself with another employee, all while we were still waiting in the same line to check out.

“My goodness, he is just beautiful!”

“Thank you very much.”

“Can I say hi?” He seemed to already be anticipating the answer.

“No,” I said, to his apparent surprise. I said so firmly but cordially, and flashing him what I hope looked like a warm smile through my mask.

(By the way, the mask I was wearing that evening was the one shown below which reads: “Do not distract dog.” Go figure.)

People tend to be taken aback by this blunt, practiced response I have to strangers asking to touch and distracting my training dogs, and this wasn’t an exception.

“Ah…a service dog?”

“Oh no, he’s not a service dog.”

I could see the discomfort creep up on his face, but I just maintained a cheery disposition, offered no additional information on the topic of the dog, and went about my business.

The thing is, this happens all the time.

Just today, an almost identical interaction occurred with one of my personal dogs as I ran through some errands about town. A woman started cooing at my pomeranian while I was preoccupied browsing items in a store.

“Is she friendly?”

“Yes.”

“Can I pet her?”

“No.”

“Oh, not that friendly then.”

“Actually, she’s very friendly.”

“Oh.”

I have practiced this interaction a million times. It’s like that Groundhogs Day movie with Bill Murray. People stop me to try to touch whatever dog I’m with nearly every single day. I’ve found that it generally happens less while I am wearing my “Do Not Distract Dog” mask, but it inevitably happens with or without. Groundhogs day, over and over again.

There’s usually a very similar reaction; you can kind of tell that a lot of people think me rude by declining, but struggle with identifying exactly how.

But let me be clear: there is nothing wrong with, and nothing rude about, politely saying no.

I almost always decline people touching or otherwise distracting any dog I’m handling, and I am almost always polite and friendly while doing so, with very few exceptions. These exceptions are:

1. People not asking at all, and helping themselves. Doing this will get you snapped at, at best. I am no longer polite if you touch my dog or a client’s dog without permission. Especially when I’m on the phone? Excuse me?
2. People touching the dog anyway after hearing “no,” or thinking that consent is optional after receiving that “no.” See #1, do not pass GO and do not collect $200. Why did you even ask if you thought the response didn’t matter?
3. Whining. This is rare, but it’s happened. Full-grown adults being like, “Aww, why can’t I? Why not? Ugh, he’s so cuuuute, why notttttttt!” (This specific example was about a dog with a bite record. On humans. In the face.)
4. People not acknowledging me, the human being, at all. I’m not going to throw a fit about it, but come on. That’s just rude.

Other than those few scenarios, which thankfully tend to be quite rare, I’m perfectly polite to anyone who asks to greet a dog and respects the answer. There’s a lot of reasons why I do this, and why I prefer not to elaborate on why or give strangers reasons.

Why I don’t let people touch my dogs.

When we take a dog somewhere, there’s a standard of behavior that makes it possible for dogs to continue to exist in public spaces like stores, outdoor cafes, restaurant patios, parks, and other spaces that are primarily “for the humans.” Having dogs behaved and under control is how we keep these spaces accessible to pet dogs and make our communities more enriching for both the dogs and their owners.

These standards of behavior are what we teach at Lugaru K9 Training when we talk about “public access training,” and “field trips.” Dogs go out into the real world, are exposed to all the different fun and exciting things that are out there in that big world, and are trained to exercise self-control, regulate their own excitement, and focus on their handler and the tasks in front of them, i.e. “mind their own business.”

When we allow strangers to interrupt that behavior, it teaches a few things to our dogs.

The first is that strangers will invade your bubble when you’re out in public, whether the dog likes it or not.

You might initially think that to some dogs, this surely would be a pleasant assumption for them to have, and therefore you should definitely be allowed to touch a stranger’s dog if they’re friendly. But the reality is that, in all dogs, this is a negative in one way or another.

In fearful dogs, the reason that this is a negative should go without explanation. If I was already wary of people, dogs, or going out in general, I know it would only add to my discomfort if every stranger came up and touched my hair, clothes, or stuck their hand directly in my face to get me to sniff.

Same goes for dogs. A fearful or insecure dog learns that the world is safe when we advocate for them, over and over again. Strangers coming up and touching on a nervous or fearful dog can exacerbate the behaviors caused by fear, such as flight responses and aggressive behavior; if you don’t keep people away for them, they will eventually be inclined to try to create that space themselves.

In excitable and boisterous happy-go-lucky dogs, the equal and opposite reaction occurs. Dogs that enjoy contact with strangers will associate strangers (and going out in public in general) with receiving attention and affection, which slams the breaks on efforts to keep them under control and self-regulate excitement in these public spaces. Over time, dogs build excitement at the sight of strangers, and if I’ve said it once I’ve said it a thousand times: the more excited a dog gets, the more likely it is that they will break training. The next thing you know, you have a dog who is constantly over-excited in public, with all the fun behaviors that come with it: pulling, barking, whining, clumsiness from being under-aware of their environment, and wholly inattentive to their handler.

None of these are dogs that will be easy to manage in public, nor will they contribute to the behavior standards that keep public spaces open to having pet dogs in the first place.

Refusing your bubble to strangers allows outings to be predictable, comfortable, and relaxing experiences, for both you and your dog.

Now, I should really make it clear that by no means am I saying that dog owners should never allow anyone to pet their dog, ever. Let it be known. That’s NOT what I’m saying. There are situations where I might allow someone to greet or touch my personal dogs, like running into a friend while I’m out and about, or after striking up a long conversation with a person and building a little trust with them.

I always tell my clients that managing who interacts with their dogs is entirely their responsibility, and the meter by which we make those decisions is trust. Being choosy about who comes into your space helps your dog to both surrender that responsibility to you, and to trust that judgement when you do allow it.

The thing is, you can’t trust strangers.

There’s a reason the grown-ups in our lives always told us to not strike up conversations with strangers when we were kids. Maybe most strangers are perfectly nice. But plenty of them aren’t.

Strangers are the nice checkout lady at the pet store, but they’re also the shady-looking dude that might hassle you if it entertained him for a few minutes that day. Strangers are the person at the park who respects your requests to not allow certain behaviors in your dog, and they’re also the old man that walks right up to you with his dog and says “I think you’ll be okay,” when you say “no thanks, we’re busy and don’t want to meet your dog.” (Ugh, true story.)

Strangers are safe and unsafe, helpful and unhelpful, respectful and disrespectful.

The point is, there are people who will respect your boundaries and your person, and there are people who won’t. Whether your standards are the same as mine or whether you have a totally different philosophy in dog training, the fact remains that you can’t trust other people to behave appropriately and uphold your standards when it comes to your dog.

Why I don’t offer explanations.

There are a lot of reasons that I prefer to leave it at “no thank you.”

One of those reasons is to pump the brakes hard on any opportunity for pushiness.

People can be really, really pushy.

Do you know about that children’s book about the mouse and the cookie? It’s like that. You give someone a reason that they can’t touch your dog, and they use that to find an opening to pressure you.

“No, he’s not great with people.”

“Oh don’t worry, all dogs love me.”

“She gets scared.”

“I’ll let her sniff first.”

“I’m preoccupied/busy.”

“Oh, just a quick pet!”

“He’s in training.”

“Oh, I can give him a treat, then!”

Just…no.

People can be horrendously pushy when it comes to the goal of touching someone else’s dog. For this reason, my practiced response is always just a firm but friendly “no.”

If they ask more questions, I’ll answer those questions, but add no further information. Historically, this has been more than effective at establishing a boundary and shutting down any room for strangers to push that boundary.

They’re not a service animal, but what if they were?

Hear me out.

A lot of people assume that my training dogs are service animals. Something about a dog just heeling, self-regulating, and paying attention to their handler in a public space makes people think they must be a really sensational service dog. And personally, I think this is the reason that a lot of people do leave us alone.

But the thing is, what if the dog was a service animal?

Service animals do not legally have to be marked as such. They can go out as naked as any pet dog. Vests, special identification, and big printed collars and leashes are nothing but a precaution taken by the people who need them.

Why? Because of basically everything I’ve detailed so far.

And the thing is, strangers wouldn’t know one way or another. Like I mentioned, many people already assume that my training dogs are service animals. Let me say it again. Strangers wouldn’t know one way or another.

If any of my working dogs were in fact unmarked service animals trained to provide tasks for my mental or physical health and safety, that health and safety would be at risk almost every single day because someone thought the dog was cute.

Have you seen the video comedian Drew Lynch posted of a woman at a restaurant blatantly distracting his service dog, Stella? When asked to stop, she said that she “wasn’t petting,” and continued trying to get Stella’s attention.

It must be exhausting.

The point is, it’s a matter of principle. Service dogs don’t need to be marked. But in Washington State, it is in fact a misdemeanor to interfere or distract a service animal. It is literally a crime to distract a service dog, even an unmarked one.

All dogs aren’t service animals. But as strangers, we should assume they are. And as a trainer, it’s my firm belief that ignoring dogs in public and just letting them exist is the most appropriate course of action, regardless of whether they have an important task to provide or if they are just pets going about their day.

It should simply be assumed that any dog in public comes with a “do not distract” sign.

But the core reason that I don’t add more information to the conversation unless prompted is this: it should simply be normal to say no, and have that be respected.

People aren’t entitled to touch any part of your person or your property.

They don’t need to know why they can’t touch your dog. They don’t need to know if your dog is a service animal. They don’t need to know why you disapprove of them cooing from across the restaurant patio or pet store. They don’t need to know your dog’s life story to respect that no means no.

And here’s the reason that makes people uncomfortable:

Just because.

Your dog is an extension of your person and a part of your property. There is no other object or entity that is a part of your personal unit or property that strangers feel entitled to touch or interrupt your day for.

Could you imagine someone at Target stopping you in the back-to-school section to ask if they can pinch your four-year-old’s cheeks? Or if someone just casually reached out to stroke your hair or grab a part of your body in passing? Or asked to examine your purse or hold your backpack because they used to have one just like it?

That would be invasive at best, no?

You deserve to be able to go about your business whether your dog is with you or not. You don’t owe strangers your time, to stop and let them play with your dog. It’s okay to just mind your own and expect others to do the same.

And you don’t owe them a reason. As an extension of your person and property, your dog is your business. Same as your child, your body, and the items and objects in your possession. It’s your business, and nobody gets to tell you that you’re rude or selfish for having a firm boundary about your person and property. End of story.

No is not a dirty word.

And it’s a skillset all its own to learn that. As a woman, especially, I was raised with the idea that being “nice” was of critical importance, and it meant sacrificing pieces of myself and compromising with my boundaries, even for strangers. Got to always be nice.

Unlearning that is a journey.

You can be nice while also being firm. Friendly while also not allowing openings for people to try to pressure you. Kind without putting your dog in uncomfortable or over-stimulating positions.

Be firm, but be polite.

Thank people for their pleasant comments in passing. I hate people trying to touch my dogs, but I adore positive comments and verbal appreciation (when addressed towards me, person-to-person), and always respond with an enthusiastic thank-you.

Yes, this dog is beautiful, isn’t he? Yes, she is so well-behaved, we’ve both worked hard! Thank you very much! Appreciating a dog from a respectful distance is always, always going to be welcome.

But the answer is going to be the same when that person asks to pet.

Like I said, it’s not easy at first. It’s training all its own, to say no with a smile and not feel bad about it, and not care what assumptions might be made about you and your dog. But they’re strangers, and you may never see them again.

And you get better with time at kindly, firmly, unapologetically saying no.