A Marker Called Rad: Why I changed my marker word.

When we train dogs, we use what’s called a marker , a sound or word that tells them, that’s it, that’s what earned the reward. It bridges the moment between behavior and reinforcement. A promise that something good is coming.

For years, my marker word was “Nice,” and I use clickers outside. Indoors, the clicker can feel too loud, so I opt for a word instead. It’s what the guide dogs used, so it became habit.

“Yes!” is the classic marker word I see most often. The clicker is the classic sound.

But recently, I changed mine.

Now I say, “Rad.”

Radcliff was a Labrador. He loved treats in that wholehearted, uncomplicated way Labs do. Food was joy. Training was joy. Being with me was joy.

Now, every time I mark a behavior, every time I tell a dog a treat is coming ,I say a version of his name. I am very liberal with treats, so I say it a lot.

It feels like keeping a small piece of him present in the work I do every day. It’s a quiet tribute.

I usually give my students a choice in markers. I explain clickers. I explain “Yes” and “Nice.” I tell them any short, distinct word works, as long as you’re consistent and you charge it properly.

I like giving choices to my learners, human and dog. I think it helps them opt into learning instead of feeling told or lectured at.

I’ll still give my students that choice.

But now I’ll tell them about “Rad,” too.

And low-key hope they choose it.

Every “Rad” is Radcliff giving a treat.

Raddie believed every treat was his.

Not in a guardy way , in a Laby way. He just really loved food. And he loved training. He loved earning it. He was used to being rewarded and assumed every treat was either already his or something he could earn.

He let other dogs have treats too.

But treats were his. 

That last night at the vet where Radcliff died, I tried to give him one more treat, He took it in his mouth. He could physically eat. he just felt too sick to. So he held it there. He didn’t want to give it back. When I told him he could have it right back, he let me take it, and I broke it into smaller pieces and tried to give it back. 

He wanted it.  

He just couldn’t. 

I brought that last treat home and gave it to Giza. He would have wanted her to have it. Or maybe he wouldn’t have, he was a dog and didn’t know what was happening. But giving it felt right.

My grandpa was like that too. Even in the hospital, days before he died, he was still making sure everyone knew who was getting what. Not because the things mattered in that moment, but because giving mattered to him.

I got his hats. That’s why I wear his fishing hook hat charm on my hat, even though I don’t fish.

It isn’t about the hook. It’s about honoring someone who gave, even at the end.

Radcliff was a very giving dog. He gave me all the love & happiness his body could hold. 

So now, when I say “Rad” when I mark a behavior and hand out a treat, it feels like I’m still passing one along for him.

Like he’s still getting the treats. 

Because every “Rad” carries the echo of a dog who wagged hard, learned eagerly, and earned a lot of treats in his day.

This turned out a little sadder than I intended but this is a happy tribute thing. I feel good about saying his name often & in a way that means good things are coming.