We gave Dixie Dawg a treat ball a couple of days back. According to the box, treat balls — hard spheres of red rubber with Milk-Bone shaped holes — “make treat time more interactive.”
Every morning, Dixie Dawg follows me downstairs to our basement office. For her, the phrase “Let’s go to work!” means “Let’s get a treat!” As we enter the office, I toss her a small biscuit made of, according to the box, “real lamb.” Done this way, treat time lasts all of two and three-quarter seconds.
Now, the same bone goes into Treat Ball. Dixie Dawg rolls the ball around the floor or carries it in her mouth from corner to corner. She probes and nudges and claws and chews her way into the treat within. Treat time now lasts a quarter hour.
Imagine Treat Ball Cafe, where your slab of sirloin or your scrambled eggs come trapped inside a rubber ball. “Have at it,” the smoke-cured waitress says. “You just just can’t use your hands.”
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