Inside of a Dog_ What Dogs See, Smell, and Know - Alexandra Horowitz [80]
PLAYING INTO MIND
Pump appears in the corners of all the videos: in one, she hops nimbly to avoid collision with a dog approaching too fast—then pursues him as he rushes out of the frame. In another, she lies prone with another dog, feigning bites with open mouths. In a third she tries and fails to join two dogs in play; as they run off she is left wagging alone in the camera's eye.
I should correct myself: I was lucky enough to spend a year watching dogs play. What is called, appropriately, "rough-and-tumble" play between two competent, athletic dogs is a gymnastic marvel to witness. The playing dogs seem to give a perfunctory greeting to each other before they suddenly mutually attack, teeth bared; tumbling together in precarious free fall; jumping on and over each other; bodies bent and tangled. When they stop, suddenly, at a noise nearby, they may be the pictures of quiet. It takes only a look or a paw raised in the air to engage in their shared havoc again.
Play might seem just like that thing dogs do, but it has a very particular scientific definition. Animal play, science intones, is a voluntary activity incorporating exaggerated, repeated behaviors, extended or truncated in duration, varied in fortitude, and atypically combined; and using action patterns that have identifiable, more functional, roles in other contexts. We don't just define play this way to take the pleasure out of it: we define it to reliably recognize it. Play also has all the attributes of a good social interaction: coordination, turn taking, and, if necessary, self-handicapping—playing at the level of one's play partner. Each partner takes the abilities and behavior of the other into account.
The function of animal play is a bit of a puzzle. Most animal behaviors are described by how they function to improve the survival of the individual or species. The search for a function of play is paradoxical, as it looks like behavior which is clearly function less: at the end of play, no food has been gained, no territory secured, no mate wooed. Instead two dogs pantingly collapse on the ground and wag their tongues at each other. One might thus suggest that the function is to have fun—but this is frowned upon as a true function, because the risks are too great. Play takes a lot of energy, can cause injuries, and, in the wild, increases an animal's danger of predation. Play-fighting can escalate into true fights, causing not just injury but social upheaval. Its riskiness makes the case for a real, undiscovered function of play even more compelling: it must be terribly useful to play, if this behavior survived the evolutionary process. It might serve as practice: a context in which to hone physical and social skills. Strangely, though, studies have shown that play is not essential to adult proficiency at the skills practiced in play. Maybe play serves as training for unexpected events. It does seem that volatile and unpredictable play is deliberately sought. In humans, play is part of normal development—socially, physically, and cognitively. In dogs, it may be the result of having spare energy and time—and owners who live vicariously through their dogs' tumblings.
Play among dogs is particularly interesting because they play more than other canids, including wolves. And they play into adulthood, which is rare for most playing animals, including humans. Although we ritualize play into team sports and solo video game marathons, as sober adults we rarely spontaneously