No Cue How to Play

I don't know if it's because she missed out on opportunities for positive social interaction as a puppy, owing to the puppy mill upbringing, but somehow Skippy missed the lesson on how to play. By the time we got her at about three years old, the concept had already escaped her. She tries sometimes, but has never quite developed the knack for it.

She has been around other dogs but treads lightly and awkwardly upon the social plane where her role within the group or the one-on-one dynamic is established. Seemingly unable to interpret the signals and social cues sent out by other dogs that it's time to play, she either runs away, barks aggressively, or turns to us with that pleading look of complete confusion. And with the cat she tries to play, but the Kitty usually responds negatively to high-pitched barking in her face, and to having a Jack Russell barrel across the living-room floor at her.

With humans, it is no different. When a small ball or stick is thrown she just looks up at you still waiting to see what will happen, not realizing that the game is afoot and the next step requires her participation. Conversely, she will misinterpret the most common human experiences as an attempt at play.

Just yesterday, while visiting my wife's parents, Skippy assumed that my father-in-law's act of tying his shoes was actually a new game. Now to us the rules were unclear, but to Skippy it was obvious that in this game it was her job to do whatever it took to prevent the shoes from being tied, while it was grandpa's job to keep trying. Some of her tactics included nosing his hands so he couldn't grip the laces, lightly nipping his fingers, lying across the laces, and stepping away quickly, then charging at his hands just as he was about to manage a loop. Eventually we had to take her away so he could finally tie his shoes. Well played, Skippy–you won by forfeit.

I don't think it's a big deal. If nothing else, it's entertaining. The concept of play as a social function will continue to elude Skippy indefinitely. Her understanding will remain limited to her reactions to misinterpreted cues or, more commonly, no cues at all. Hey, Skippy. Let's play that game again where I throw the ball and you stand still and watch the ball, then look at me like I'm a complete idiot. That's always fun. And so here I am, staring at my confused dog, asking myself: what is up with my Jack Russell?