Skippy's Puzzle

We finally found a toy that Skippy will actually play with. In my November 4th post, "No Cue How to Play," I lamented over having a dog that didn't understand the concept of "play". Well, nothing has changed, although now she sort of plays with new puzzle we got her called "Linkables".

It's quite simple; a treat goes in this rubber tube-thing and she has to try to get it out. So we are bribing her to play and tricking her into playing by disguising it as work. It's strange, but Jack Russells like to work and this seems to really utilize her severely lacking problem solving skills (remember how easy she gets stuck outside).

I love this video, because you can really see her determination to figure it out. I've shortened it to lapse some of the time it took her, which was about two minutes. Since then (about two weeks ago), she can get the treat in about 30-45 seconds, depending on how well gravity is cooperating that day. The neat thing about the puzzle is that you can get extensions for it to keep the challenge new. I think I'll hold off on the extras for now. This one sort gives me the feeling that my dog is really smart and since this feeling is new for me, I'm going to hold on to it for just a little longer.

Finding the Perfect Chew Toy

Since getting Skippy eight years ago we have tried several different toys to try and teach her how to play. She either seems confused or completely uninterested. When a ball or stick is thrown Skippy merely looks at me, waiting to see what I'm going to do next. Clearly the ball is meant for some greater purpose, and with a little more patience, she'll find out why it was thrown.

Even toys intended for chewing fail to entice her. I've tried one of those ropes with a big knot at one end. I think the idea is that the dog is supposed to chew on the knot while you hang on to the rope end; maybe you throw it too. It didn't matter. Stuffed animals, chew toys, and the like are all politely inspected when brought home, then promptly ignored.

I would have thought chew toys to be more to her liking. They seem pretty easy to figure out. But Skippy's tastes are not so... how shall I say this? Not so "commercial". She tends to prefer more "homemade" chew toys; the occasional pencil for example. Her most recent preference was my wife's oil paints. Luckily I removed them from her mouth before she punctured any.

As she sat there on the couch, unhappy that her new chew toys had been taken from her, she looked around for something else. Her eyes caught the alluring shape of a paper envelope, and then proceeded to destroy it. It all happened so fast. I could only sit and watch astonished that my Jack Russell was completely content to chew on paper because I took away her oil paints. Say that last sentence over in your head a few times, then tell me my dog isn't a weirdo. Or better yet, imagine me bringing home some new chew toys: "Hey Skippy, I brought you home some oil paints and stationary to eat!"

What's up with my Jack Russell?

She doesn't quite look all there, does she?

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?