Why I Hate Clicker Training
By: Dustin Holloway
Tags: Humor, Dogs, Puppies, Pets, Dog Training

Humor

Why I Hate Clicker Training

There’s an ‘I’ in ‘click,’ and it stands for “I hate this”

Image by Katrin B. from Pixabay

Clickers are widely recommended by positive reinforcement dog trainers and are practically ubiquitous if you spend any time around dogs. My wife and I adopted a two-month old mutt, Felix, a few weeks ago and are committed to positive, rewards-based training. Based primarily on the advice of a YouTube dog trainer (because that’s where we go for advice these days), we’ve made clickers a central part of our training these first few weeks. This has led to some success and a lot of frustration. So I will try to explain my irritation in a way that is both even-handed and informative.

The clicker I don’t know how to use, next to the watch that doesn’t matter anymore because time is an illusion Photo Credit: Author

Whoever devised clicker training is a soulless denizen of the netherworld.

Don’t get me wrong, I like the concept of clicker training. Did your dog just do a thing you like? *Click* it. Then give them a treat. Over time, they learn that *click* equals treat, so you develop a quick, precise method to tell your dog that you like what they’re doing. It’s all fine and dandy in theory, but I have a few significant issues with clicker training in practice.

1. You have to hold onto too much shit

When I’m taking Felix outside for the fourth time in one hour to ensure that he doesn’t dribble pee all over the lovely rug, gifted to us from my mom and dad — that I promised them in no uncertain terms that I would take amazing care of — I am usually already holding onto:

A squirming ball of dog that will immediately pee on any surface that his paws touch, unless that surface is outside

A leash to regulate his innate, wolf-like instinct to hurl himself in front of any large piece of metal traveling at 35mph or faster

2–3 toys that Felix will cheerfully ignore in favor of rubbing his nose against all the blades of grass

Treats to tell him that he’s a very good boy for occasionally letting go of my achilles tendon (for long enough to nibble a piece of beef liver before resuming his grim death-grip on my lower leg)

Added to all that, I’m supposed to also carry a clicker? I know it’s attached to my wrist, but it’s useless when it’s just hanging there. In order to work it, I actually need to have it in my hand with my thumb on the button, which inevitably means that as soon as I get outside I have to drop everything I’m holding like a Scooby Doo character who’s just seen a ghost and try to *click* the precise moment that Felix finishes peeing so he knows that we appreciate it when he doesn’t make a puddle in the living room…again. Which brings us to:

2. When the hell are you supposed to *click*?

The clicker is supposed to tell your dog the exact moment that they “got it right,” while giving you time to get to your treats. But for potty training in particular, I never know when I’m supposed to *click*, so I’m pretty sure Felix has no idea what I’m trying to communicate. Should I only *click* at the end of the pee? Will it not work if I *click* somewhere in the middle? Will that tell him that he should hold the rest until he gets back inside? How weird do I look if every time my dog squats down, I’m there, bent over, looking at his undercarriage to make sure I *click* at the exact moment that his pee stops? If I *click* too late, is it a total wash? Has he already forgotten that he was just peeing three seconds ago and think that I really like it when he chews dandelion greens?

On top of my pee-related clicker confusion, I can tell that I might not be cut out for the all-star clicker-training team because as it turns out:

3. My coordination isn’t fantastic

Don’t get me wrong, in general, my body can get me from A-to-B, but when it comes to fine motor skills, I have the manual dexterity of a Beluga whale. Frequently when I have a tug-toy slung over my shoulder, and I’m frantically shredding treats that are apparently portioned for middle-aged Saint Bernards into puppy-sized pieces, I invariably miss the micro-second that Felix was in a sit before he went tearing off to kill a squirrel with his puppy barks. I don’t know that I’ve ever once accurately captured Felix’s behavior with the clicker. I’m pretty sure I’m just inuring him to the sound of a knocking radiator.

What did you just tell me to do? Oh wait, I don’t care. Photo Credit: Author

Is my disdain for clicker training really just a mask to cover up my sense of inadequacy at not successfully training Felix to follow my commands? No, it’s totally justified, and clicker training is stupid. Still, I’m willing to eat my words if a few months from now I inadvertently *click* and Felix gently pads to the front door to bring me my shoes (that’s how it works, right?).

Until then, though, I’ll maintain that clicker training was designed to make mortals look foolish so that residents of Hades might have some entertainment. I’m pretty sure no one’s using that damn clicker on Cerberus.