Does dog humor exist? Well, this article featuring Leonbergers claim that it likely does. Dogs think it is funny to be a bit mischievous and they special sounds while doing it. You can call it dog laughter. Well, if that is the case, then our Leonberger Bronco laughed on several occasions, for example the time he escaped the leash and had me chasing him around the neighborhood (see story below).
Regarding dog laughter, I am also wondering about Rollo, our mini-Australian Shepherd. He loves lying on his back and getting a belly rub. While you are doing it, he is kicking all four of his legs while turning his head back and forth with his mouth open. It looks like he is laughing, like a giggling baby getting tickled.
A couple of times, Bronco took advantage of the fact that the snap hook on his leash would come loose and detach from his collar. One day this became a big problem. Bronco ran off, and I chased him—across the street, across people’s lawns, across the street again, and back over neighboring lawns. When he ran in circles, I ran in circles right behind him, yelling at him. He would stop and wait for me, and then as soon as I got close, he would start running again. I even jumped to catch him a few times. But he dashed off both times, and I just landed flat on my belly.
Bronco had a lot of fun doing this. I imagined him laughing at me, and I got angry. Dogs can’t laugh, of course, but his tail was wagging in excitement, and it was obviously a game to him—a dangerous game.
So, I asked him, “Do you want to be lost? Bad things happen to dogs who get lost.” I don’t know how much of that he understood, but I had to tell him the truth. Then I turned around and started walking home. I figured I’d never catch him, so it was better for me to go back and get help. (It was 2008, and I didn’t have a cell phone.) Naturally, I worried that Bronco would get hit by a car. I was also worried about the damage an energetic 130-pound adolescent dog could do to the neighborhood.
As I stomped off, I turned around to look at Bronco. He stood still, around a hundred yards away, staring back at me. He seemed confused. I continued walking. After a while, I heard the soft slapping of big paws on the road behind me, accompanied by some distinctly noisy breathing. Then I saw Bronco walking next to me, so I carefully snapped the leash back onto his collar. He let me do it without protest. He was finished playing games. We walked home calmly, and the next day I bought a new and better leash.
Leonberger Life 