I had dropped off Spuds for an emergency visit to the vet: one of his ears suddenly started swelling for no discernible reason. On the way out, I chatted with another concerned pet owner, who was sitting with her adorable aged Yorkie-Chihuahua mix (known as a “Chorkie”: that’s not her above, but it looks just like her—the dog, not the owner). We talked for quite a while, then I took my leave, after asking her dog’s name (April).
Half-way to my car in the parking lot, I started thinking, “That was rude. I talk to this nice, friendly woman for 15 minutes, ask her dog’s name, and never ask for hers or identify myself. I acted like she didn’t matter, and all I was really interested in was her dog. How dehumanizing and disrespectful.” Then I recalled all the other dog owners I know only by their dogs. (Everybody know Spuds.) One of them came by my house two days ago, knocked on the door, and gave me all the ingredients for tacos. “I know you’re having to cook for just one now after your wife’s death, and we had this left over,” she said. I had no idea who she was because she didn’t have her dog with her, a very old Sheltie named Lilly. Eventually I figured it out. (She pretty clearly doesn’t know my name either.)
Back to the vet’s…I turned around, went back into the pet hospital, and found the woman I had just left. “I came back to apologize,” I said. “I asked your dog’s name but never asked what yours was. I really did enjoy speaking with you. I’m Jack.” She smiled and said, “I’m Carla! You don’t need to apologize. That happens all the time!” “I know it does, and it shouldn’t,” I said as I left.
As I drove home, I found myself wondering if the fact that she was black helped trigger the alarm. It might have. Whatever the reason, that alarm is set now.
Ethics Alarms 
“As I drove home, I found myself wondering if the fact that she was black helped trigger the alarm. It might have.”
Nope. Race has nothing to do with it. Lord Remington Winchester Burger, I, Esq., Dog of Letters, and I routinely walk the neighborhood. I know Charlie, Barney, Bailey, Mollie, Millie, Daisy, Hank, Roger, Baer, Mannie, Moose (great name!), Wesley, and Chelsea. All of them are dogs; I only know a few of their owners’ names. We mix and mingle and do dog stuff. Most owners are friendly and enjoy the obligatory doggie tussle (except for Negus’s owner – who is a monumental tool!). Yet, there is no person name exchange because the interactions are between and betwixt the dogs.
jvb
As a fellow dog owner (Belgian Tervuren) this is standard operating procedure in our world. After all, it is the awesomeness of our relationships with our dogs that brings us together in the first place. I am not offended when a fellow dog owner knows my dog’s name and not mine. I recently have also been making a point to remember their names.
👍
then again, some people think it’s rude if you invade their space, ask their name, try to start a conversation. I guess the only way to know if you’re being rude/disrespectful by not introducing yourself and asking the other person’s name is to do exactly what you finally did. I usually find myself introducing Maureen to someone, hoping they respond with their name that I can’t pull out of the memory archives.
Same thing happens with parents of my kids’ friends.
Not really, especially the ones I see quite a bit, or who are in the neighborhood.
Having said that, some of the contacts in my phone fit the format: (Joe; Jake’s dad; Smith).
-Jut
“As I drove home, I found myself wondering if the fact that she was black helped trigger the alarm.”
Ummm.
No.
In the several years I’ve been reading this blog, daily (ok, 99.97% – I do occasionally miss a day…), I would say with confidence it’s just Classic Jack Marshall.