Dog Toys...and such....

My dogs love to play.

Not necessarily with each other (seriously), but with toys.

They won't even play with other dogs, much - it's rare.

So, how do they play? And what do they play with?



Years ago, when Skally was still a pup, she and Cubby (the schipperke) used to play tug-o-war with one of those ropes, made to play tug-o-war with.

Cubby in his later years.

And Syd, Skally, and Cubby used to frolic in the family room, wrestling, jumping, leaping and just having a wonderful time!

Syd relaxing

Then came the fire. We won't go into the backstory of this, but let's just say the dogs were more traumatized than I had originally believed. After a month in a kennel, they were finally back home to a house under construction - their "playroom", kitchen and nook were completely bare for 3 more months (yes, it was utter Hell!).

Skally in the new kitchen circa 2005.

After this, they didn't have the same joie de vivre with one another they once had. No matter what I tried, nothing seemed to work. Until.......

For Syd's eighth birthday, I bought him a foodball. He had had a "die", which he would roll around the house, but it was square, and Cubby seemed to be taking it over...Cubby could be somewhat vicious when he felt possessive, and Syd, wisely, avoided him and the cube.

This foodball made his eyes twinkle. He was so very happy. Odd to believe a dog would know he had a gift just for him, on his birthday, but he did. It squeaked and made other noises, as it was rolled about the rooms (and boy did he ever exercise with this). Then Cubby decided he needed to have this. He went after the ball with a vengeance. Poor Syd didn't know what to do. So, I hatched a plan. AS these weren't terribly expensive (about $6.95 each), I bought three more. 'Now,' I thought, 'Cubby will not be able to micromanage these!'

How wrong I was.

Skally could care less about these things. The rope was of no interest. She enjoyed watching them, and though she was the youngest of the three (she was a year younger than Cubby, and two younger than Obsydian), she watched as a maternal figure. There's something truly remarkable about her - the grace, style, dignity and finesse she exhibits, still, at age 15.5.

With 4 foodballs and one food die around the house, there was the constant sound of 'peep', 'squeak', 'bang', and then barking and growling with whining. Cubby was exhausting himself running between the toys, waiting for Syd to roll them around. He wouldn't employ them, but lie down guarding them. Syd would eventually go to another finding Cubby throwing himself in the way. Skally would be with me in another room, looking at me as though saying, "Those boys will never learn."

So, to relieve tension, I would take the items away for a period of time to much protest.

I couldn't give Syd stuffed toys - he'd rip them apart in no time.

I did find those balls that have the "cookie" you screw in. I bought three sizes, the very large for Skally (she lost interest after 5 minutes - just wasn't worth it for her, I guess), a medium for Syd, and a smaller size for Cubby. They weren't cheap, and the cookies were expensive, as well.

Syd took those over, and took on Cubby's first, popping out the cookies and gobbling them up. Then he would go to Skally's - his record was 15 minutes for both cookies and the screw that held them in place. Then his own, which was gone in no time flat (though a little quicker than Cubby's).

Kongs with peanut butter were fine, but I needed to find something that wasn't food oriented - alas, there wasn't anything that struck their fancy...

After Cubby passed, sadly, at age 12 from nerve damage suffered from a pit bull attack, I brought out the balls again, and these weren't played with as much. There was the pall of depression from both Syd and Skally. And when Syd passed from cancer 7 months later (he was 14), I gave away the balls that were still intact (Syd had figured out how to take out the "dials" that regulated the dispensing of the kibble). Skally had no interest - she was more interested in chasing rodents, and fence fighting with the neighbor dogs.

When Rusty came to roost in our abode, he liked having stuffed animals, but was indifferent - he now had a new life, which included going outside, walks, the park, and other enticements (he had been in a small townhouse with cats, no yard, and no exercise).

Then came Sammy. Sammy has his stuffed animals, Timmy Mouse and Ricky Racoon. HE loves these. He came, as well, with his Eyore, which sits atop the microwave stand in the kitchen, with various other ripped "in need of repair" stuffed toys. I would sew these, but as soon as I take them down, he's grabbing at them, and won't allow me to mend them!

Then came Simon. Simon is very much a ball dog. He loves balls. He lives for balls. Balls are his passion. So, noting that the only foodball I had was damaged by Syd, and I kept it as a reminder, I bought a rubber foodball.

This is very popular with Simon, Sammy and Rusty. I fill it up, Simon grabs the ball and walks around the house with it in his mouth, and inadvertently drops kibble here and there, with the vacuum mouths of Sammy and Rusty cleaning it up. Simon also rolls it, as does Rusty and Samson (when Simon goes to drink water).

The ball uses their minds. It's good therapy for them. Skally watches, or sleeps. She has no interest. But then, sh is much older than they.

They play a little with each other - Rusty and Skally play off each other. Samson and Simon (both 6) play together, with Samson terrorizing Simon (yesterday, he rose up on his hind legs, and played Godzilla at Samson. It was hysterical, and I didn't have a camera handy - doggone it!).

However the days of wrestling and frolic aren't there. I miss them in my mind. Perhaps I radiate my age, but I'm glad they're mellower than that. A hearty walk in the morning, and a long frolic in the park in the evening - sometimes with a walk - seem to do them well. They're all healthy and happy.

Right now, Skally is pacing the room, hoping I'll chase her around the house (good for their mental stimulation - keeps her young!), Rusty is at my feet, Samson on the sofa with Timmy Mouse, and Simon is rolling the ball in the other room...

My lesson is that simple surpasses anything fancy.