Always A Good Boy, But Not A Good Explanation

I once found a big bulldog in my backyard. I don’t own a bulldog. He was a big, friendly, but slow-witted guy. He looked healthy and had a collar but no tags, so I knew he was a local. I made sure he had water and went to the front yard to start knocking on doors. As soon as I stepped outside, I saw the family three houses down, all gathered in their front yard. I walked over to them and said:

Me: “You guys missing a bulldog?”

The mother looked at me and said:

Mother: “Is his name Titus?’

The question took me aback. I mean, he didn’t have tags. They knew he didn’t have tags. So all I could think to say was:

Me: “He didn’t say, but I’m pretty sure he’s yours.”

The family was happily reunited. I later asked why he didn’t have any name tags.

Mother: “Oh, then people would see it and know his name is Titus, and they’d call him by name and kidnap him.”

Fellow reader, I am just as confused as you are…