*Click*Treat

*Click*Treat should be my new motto.

I read something today that was so obvious it never occurred to me and dumbfounded me when it sunk in. That's fairly typical for me, by the way, "Can't see the forest through the trees" aptly describes me most of the time.

Clicker training forces you to focus on what is right rather than what is wrong.

I've been doing clicker training for almost a year, yet for some reason seeing this in print in a clicker training manual I randomly flipped through whilst wandering through PetSmart earlier this evening made synapses in my brain tingle in a new and exciting combination. But first, a little background information...

My internal glass interpretation device is locked in the half empty position, and it's always been like that. I see a half empty glass and think, the glass was clearly designed for a specific volume of liquid, and if half of it is missing then the glass is not living up to it's full potential as a glass of that size. I'm fairly certain I came out of the Cabbage Patch with Xavier Roberts name on my butt and my glass interpretation device locked in the "It's Half Empty" position. Ok, the first bit about Xavier Roberts and my butt isn't true, but the inherent pessimism is.

The glass is half empty approach has one benefit in that you're not going to be disappointed if you've already decided it's as bad as it's going to get; But clicker training is based on the epitome of the glass is half full mentality: I asked for "Look at me" and Caleb turned his head a millimeter? *Click*Treat! Hey, it's a start! I asked again, I got a halfhearted glance in my general direction? *Click*Treat! Getting better! I asked for the 476th time, I got the full head turn with eye contact! *Click*Treat! Jackpot! Success! Houston, I have Caleb's attention!

In two months of hard core training everyday and twice a week in obedience classes we've made more progress than in the previous eight months. Caleb and I are a clicker training success story, as evidenced by the surprise "We're not going to have obedience class today, everybody take your dog's leashes off, we're going to try agility!" curve ball my obedience instructor threw us last night. Only one case of uncontrollable zoomies, and the other three times we did the course Caleb was a rock star! He looked like he'd done this his entire life (His mom kept tripping over her own feet, but never mind that), when really he was just tuned into me and what I was asking him and waiting for confirmation he was on the right track with a *Click*Treat.

The epiphany came this evening when I realized I may not be often disappointed with the glass is half empty mentality, but I also don't get to experience the joy that accompanies the *Click*Treat 'glass-is-half-full-we-may-not-be-there-now-but-we're-getting-it-and-we'll-be-there-soon' mentality. There is nothing that makes me more joyful than when Caleb correctly performs the skill we've been working on for the first time, so why can't I carry that joy over into the rest of my life? I probably shouldn't start clicking and chucking freeze dried salmon bits at friends, family and coworkers, but why not look for what went right and compliment it, rather than pointing out what went wrong to correct it?

I asked Boyfriend to make the bed and when I came back in the pillows were upside down, in the wrong order, and the sheets were sticking out from underneath the comforter.

*Click*Treat!

After all, the covers are on the bed. Maybe the next time I ask, he'll tuck in the sheets.

Proper pillow placement may be too much to ask.