Bella can take treats from my hand now, but the skill is not transferable to locations other than her bed. When I have offered her chicken in the foyer, she seems confused or uninterested. Everything she does, she does in strict adherence to her rituals. If I ask her to vary, she is frightened, but occasionally cooperative. Our walk, the walk we do six times a day, starts with a left out the back door, then a cut through the yard, quick march up the road to the stream whereupon Bella initiates a nice arc back, an enthusiastic crossing of the road when my house comes into view, the very important circumnavigation of the yard-then the wait on the deck for paw wiping, and finally, into the foyer and the wait for the leash to be disconnected. To conclude the adventure, Bella trots very efficiently back to the safety of her bed. We do this exactly the same way every time, six times a day.
I think ritual, or habit, is part of animal survival, and sometimes their demise. They learn a route and then follow it repeatedly. The deer enter the neighbor's yard in the same place every year until a generational path is worn. The squirrels have highways through the trees and maintain their traffic patterns. The robin pair that nests in my carport produces two or three batches of offspring every year using the same nest. These behaviors are of great interest to my cats who have established repetitive patterns of their own. Circe and Imja have a pattern that includes fighting through the window with their tiger striped frienemy. The tiger approaches the sliding glass doors belligerently. She gets up on her hind legs, opens her front legs as if to embrace, and then makes a kind of clapping motion against the glass. This infuriates my cats, and the three of them hurry to repeat the ritual at every eye level window they can find. They do this several times a week. It's something all three of them seem to look forward to.
Bella continues to spend most of her time in her safe place. Every time I hand feed her treats, I need to undertake the same seduction. Sit next to her on her bed, start a let's get to know each other conversation, offer a little tentative petting, and then the treat. I am rewarded for my patience with her butter soft muzzle whispering on my palm.
I think ritual, or habit, is part of animal survival, and sometimes their demise. They learn a route and then follow it repeatedly. The deer enter the neighbor's yard in the same place every year until a generational path is worn. The squirrels have highways through the trees and maintain their traffic patterns. The robin pair that nests in my carport produces two or three batches of offspring every year using the same nest. These behaviors are of great interest to my cats who have established repetitive patterns of their own. Circe and Imja have a pattern that includes fighting through the window with their tiger striped frienemy. The tiger approaches the sliding glass doors belligerently. She gets up on her hind legs, opens her front legs as if to embrace, and then makes a kind of clapping motion against the glass. This infuriates my cats, and the three of them hurry to repeat the ritual at every eye level window they can find. They do this several times a week. It's something all three of them seem to look forward to.
Bella continues to spend most of her time in her safe place. Every time I hand feed her treats, I need to undertake the same seduction. Sit next to her on her bed, start a let's get to know each other conversation, offer a little tentative petting, and then the treat. I am rewarded for my patience with her butter soft muzzle whispering on my palm.
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