9780008390662

cricket bully
When Julia returns from walking her charges, I race over and give her a good
ol’ Bob-style hello. Lots of yipping and twirling, followed by some attempts
to jump into her arms.
Humans love that stuff.
Julia looks at me sternly and says, “Robert, down.”
I leap some more because I’m determined to convince her I’m incorrigible.
Untrainable. It’s part of my charm. My Bobliness.
“Down,” she says again. From her coat pocket, she pulls out her little metal
clicker, along with some treats.
I hate that clicker. It’s meant to help train me. But it’s like a cricket bully.
Here’s the theory. I do something right, Julia clicks. Gives me a treat. The
clicks tell me when I’m behaving, and the treats reinforce it.
If that happens enough, before your very eyes I’m supposed to transform into
a Good Dog.
Well, I ain’t that easy.
“Down, Bob.” Julia tries again.
I want a treat, but not enough to cave. So I opt for a playbow. A compromise.
Julia sighs. “You are definitely a challenging student.” To my annoyance, she
puts the treats back in her pocket.
I think Julia may be onto me.