Inside of a Dog_ What Dogs See, Smell, and Know - Alexandra Horowitz [82]
Nearly every play bout begins with one of these signals. The quintessential signal is the play bow, in which the dog's body genuflects in front of a desired play partner. A dog bent on his forelegs, mouth open and relaxed, with his rump in the air and tail high and wagging is pulling out all the stops to induce someone to play. Even tailless, you can mimic this pose yourself; expect a response in kind, a friendly nip, or at least a second look. Two dogs who are regular playmates may use a bow shorthand: familiarity allows abbreviations in formality, just as between human acquaintances. Just as How do you do? became Howdy, the play bow can be shortened into the aforementioned play slap, the front legs clapping the ground at the beginning of the bow; the open mouth display, the mouth opened but without the teeth bared; or the head bow, a bobbing of the head with opened mouth. Even panting in quick bursts can be a signal to play.
It is how dogs might use these play-signal and attention-getting behaviors together that could reveal or refute that dogs have a theory of mind. In just the way the false belief task shows that some children are thinking about what other people know, and some are not, one's use of attention in communicating is meaningful. The key question I asked of my data of playing dogs was this: Did they communicate, using play signals, intentionally—with attention to the attention of their audience? And did they use attention-getters when they didn't have their play partner's attention? Just how were those bumps, barks, and bows of play used?
It's hard to give a good account of what's happened in a bout of play you have just watched. Sure, I could create a very simplistic story line between two dog protagonists—Bailey and Darcy ran around together … Darcy chased Bailey and barked … they both bit at each other's faces … then they split—but it glosses over the details, such as how often Darcy and Bailey self-handicapped, intentionally throwing themselves on the ground on their backs to be bitten, or using less force in a bite than they could. Whether they took turns in biting and being-bitten; chasing and being-chased. And, most critically, whether they signaled to each other when the signal could be seen and responded to—with play or by hightailing it out of there. For this, you need to look at the moments between the seconds.
What I found there was remarkable. These dogs play-signaled only at very particular times. They signaled reliably at the beginning of play—and always to a dog who was looking at them. Attention might be lost a dozen times in a typical play session. One dog gets distracted by a ripe smell underfoot; a third dog approaches the playing pair; an owner wanders away. What you might notice is simply a pause followed by a resumption of play. In fact, in these cases, a quick series of steps needs to be followed. For the play not to be permanently severed, the interested dog must regain his partner's attention and then ask him to play again. The dogs I observed also play-signaled when the play had paused and they wanted to resume the game—again, almost exclusively to dogs able to see the signal. In other words, they communicated intentionally, to an audience able to see them.
Even better, in many cases the record of where the dogs were looking revealed that a dog who had paused play was distracted—looking elsewhere, playing with someone else. One option for his erstwhile partner would be to play-bow madly, hoping to lure someone over to play. But more mindful would be just what they did: used an attention-getter before doing a bow. Importantly, they used attention-getters that matched the level of inattention of their playmates,