As a puppy, Laika was a bit submissive at times. When she finally learned that some of her behaviors and actions were "bad," she would roll on her back, exposing her belly and pouty face. It was almost as if she was sorry, but also wanted sympathy at the same time. Regardless, it worked and she would usually be given a treat after. She was quickly learning...how to get treats.
Missy, who helped me take care of Laika a lot at the beginning, built on this behavior to teach Laika a trick: rolling-over. It was pretty easy for Laika to learn, and she mastered the maneuver in a few days, associating it with a voice command. She was just given a steady supply of treats each time she did what was asked of her. In hindsight, I realize that Laika was probably just taking notes on how to get what she wanted: treats, and lots of them. After a week's time, she would perform the trick without even being asked and just lay there waiting for some type of reward. It was hilarious to see her laying completely still on her back, eyes focused eagerly on her box of cookies.
Soon, instead of "roll-over," the trick morphed into just being called "play-dead" because of her rapid roll into the motionless, expectant pose on her back. She got so good at the trick, that her requested and impromptu performances were renowned among my friends. I thought it might be time to move on to another trick, since this first one was so easy. Why not? Laika was so smart, I figured she could learn to shake "hands" with her paw in no time. So, we moved on to "shake."
My roommates and I tried in vain to teach Laika this trick. We would say "shake" and grab her paw, shaking it gently trying to associate the word with the action. Laika did not seem to care. She would just stand there and stare blankly at us or, even worse, yawn and walk away! It was funny how little she was interested. After about a week of trying intermittently to teach her the trick, she enacted her plan. I am certain she had been scheming all week, but waited to add some suspense. Suddenly, each time she was asked to "shake," she would look me directly in the eyes and quickly roll-over and "play-dead"; dramatically waiting for a treat. Of course, I gave her treats, because it was funny that she had so blatantly disregarded the attempt at a new trick and settled on the one trick that she knew would result in attention and treats!
In fact, we would sometimes "wow" new friends and visitors with her performances. I would first ask Laika to "play dead" and she would respond with her favorite (and only) trick. After the audience was sufficiently impressed and Laika sat back-up to greet her fans with a round of tail-wagging to receive her treat, we would move on to the "next" trick. "Laika, shake," I would say to her. She would simply look at me, lay on her back and, again, "play dead." I would laugh each time, but at first others were confused. They might say, "That was the same trick. She didn't even 'shake' her paw." Well, yes, it was true, but that was the point. She was a one-trick pitbull, and had taught herself and me that she didn't need to waste her time learning a bunch of worthless tricks, especially if one of them were enough to show that she was smart and could get treats. I think this is the definition of efficiency, actually.
Laika was extremely smart in picking out words (sometimes in more than just English) and associating them with actions or things. However, she was also smart in the way that she played by her own rules when it came to learning non-essential skills, like "tricks." Sometimes, one trick is all you need to make yourself and others satisfied. At least, that's the lesson Laika taught me.
The one-trick pitbull shows-off...well...her one trick.
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