Lambie Triage.

The dogs I have adopted over the years all shared one thing in common - none of them had normal puppyhoods.  This meant that there was no 'throw the ball, bring it back' play.  With my long-haired dachsie, Oscar, it was because he had been a puppy mill 'worker' and had not had much socialization.  He did latch onto a rubber squeaky toy that was as large as his head.  He would not squeak it, nor would he share it.  It took almost six months before he was relaxed enough to leave it behind on his walks.  Reilly, my Great Dane, spent all of his puppy hood/young adulthood in a crate that was too small for him.  I tried to get him to fetch or play - no dice.  Bernie, who is incredibly fearful, sees dog toys as potential objects of terror.  When Scrappy joined us, I assumed he wouldn't want toys or be interested in a rousing game of fetch.  How wrong I was!  He was outside 'helping' me garden when he caught sight of my gardening gloves.  He snatched one up and raced around with it, tossing it in the air and leaping on it.  He now has four toys:  Lambie, Foxy, Squirrelly, Ropey.  (I dare any of you who have dogs to make fun of those names...)  Lambie is most often a victim of limb-loss.  Poor dog toy construction.  Squirrelly gets the most use, has lasted through a few emergency stitchings and keeps on squeaking, albeit weakly.  Ropey is the toy of last resort.  Foxy is his new favorite because it has a squeaker at both ends.  I like it because it has no stuffing.  And, while Bernie does not approve of dog toys, she is not above sneaking out when Scrappy is getting a drink and gathering up all the toys, taking them to her bed and lying on them.  Smart cookie.  That Foxy can drive you crazy.