Seeking True Puppy Love Among an Electronic Litter

Not quite.

After playing with a litter of my own, I have to admit that most were far cooler when they were programmed to perform under the tightly controlled conditions of the toy show.

Plus, during my test, I had a co-tester who provided an excellent basis for comparison--a real puppy named Molly.

Molly agreed with me that although the robo-pups are not as cool as real flesh-and-blood dogs, some are still cute and fun.

And because children across America have been bombarded with ads imploring them to find a home for these would-be pets, chances are good that hundreds of thousands of adults will find themselves standing in a toy aisle somewhere this week, staring at rows of seemingly identical robo-dogs.

I tested five dogs. Four are kids' toys--Manley ToyQuest's Tekno, Tiger Electronics' Poo-Chi and Super Poo-Chi and Fisher-Price's Rocket the Wonder Dog--and the fifth, Sony's $1,500 Aibo, can be described only as an extravagance for the well-heeled. Know this: Robotic dogs are not all the same. Some are far--far--more likely than others to make the grown-ups or real puppies in the house want to call the dogcatcher.

At the top of the hide-the-batteries list is Tekno, made by Los Angeles-based Manley ToyQuest for about $40.

Tekno the Robotic Puppy is true to its name, being the most puppy-like of the bunch. That's good and bad. Scratch behind Tekno's ears and it coos and scrunches up its ears adorably. Get the dog wound up and its tail wags furiously, at about the same decibel level as a 747. Tekno has a sweet "Arf!" but it also emits a nerve-rattling, furious, "YIP! YIP! YIP! YIP! YIP! YIP!" when excited or annoyed.

Tekno owners are assured that it "learns" as it plays with you, and that it behaves according to your instructions. The directions also warn that Tekno will be happy and excited to see you. But if you've gone too long without playing with it, Tekno cries and growls. Like I need guilt from my toys.

Making Tekno do tricks is kind of like playing Twister, because the directions guide you through a series of awkward instructions involving pressing the dog's nose, neck and tongue at the same time until it beeps four times.

Not that the tricks aren't well worth the effort. Users can teach the dog to make what the manufacturer politely calls Tekno's "rude noise." You get the idea.

Molly, my real-life co-tester puppy, wasn't so thrilled with Tekno either, preferring to chew on its tail rather than play with it.

Tekno also talks. Although "Thanks" was cute at first, "coolcoolcoolcool" was a bit disturbing--as was a cackling " 'Scuse me." I was sorry I followed the directions and programmed it to "howl at the moon," and more than anything, sorry I programmed its alarm clock so it could wake me up to the longest and loudest rendition of "Happy Birthday" I have ever heard.

Tekno doesn't remind me of a puppy; it is much more like the little brother I never had--and therefore most likely to be on an 11-year-old boy's must-have list. Among Tekno's most redeeming features is its on-off switch, a sanity-saver not offered by all the others.

Up one notch on the annoying scale is a dog without a switch, Tiger Electronics' Poo-Chi, one of the first robo-dogs to hit the market. The $20 to $30 Poo-Chi--and a new kitty friend, Meow-Chi--is like Furby, an earlier hit from Hasbro's Tiger division.

Poo-Chi sings. And bounces up and down on tip-toes. And if you put two of them together and push their heads a certain number of times, they "RowfRowfRowf" their way through everything from "Ode to Joy" to the bridal march.

When I tested Poo-Chi, Molly wasn't much bigger than it was, and her reaction about sums it up for me. When it started singing, she was scared and barked at it. But as it continued its song, she grew more brave and swatted it over with her paw. From there, it was all the easier to muffle the singing by picking it up and toting it around in her mouth.

You might not expect Poo-Chi to walk around or follow commands, but I have trouble thinking Poo-Chi would be much fun after about the second week of singing and bouncing. So rather than a cute kid toy, think of Poo-Chi for a hip 15-year-old girl or for a college kid in need of a kitschy dorm-room mascot.

Super Poo-Chi, Tiger's $50 version, however, is another matter. Super Poo-Chi responds to the name you give it and can learn tricks on command.

Of course, there's that same ignore-it-at-your-peril bit, and that's annoying. If you are organizing your day around making sure your robotic dog gets enough attention, why not get a real one?