Running the Gauntlet

Every time I take my designer dog, Jackson, for a walk, I can't help but think how much he has changed since I started taking him for regular jaunts, about a year ago. And, to tell the truth, I've changed, too.

Jackson is an energetic, eleven-year-old Shih-Poo.

Ever since I was an apartment-dwelling kid, I walked all over town, to and from school and the parks in Fairbury. Nearly every weekend, my family would take extended hikes out in the country, accompanying Dad as he hunted for ducks or pheasants, or even squirrels, whatever was in season, or exploring some of the historical sites that dotted the area. I didn't realize how much I enjoyed those daily walks, until I started up again last year.

You see, I don't like walking alone, and neither Bill nor the kids have ever been committed to walking with me more than once in a blue moon. So, I haven't walked much in recent years.

Last January, my friend, Deb, invited me to go hiking with her at one of the wildlife management areas south of Gering and, since then, we have tried to hike together at least once every week or two. On the days we aren't able to hike together, I've been taking Jackson with me on my neighborhood walks.

Deb hiked ahead of me not too long ago, at the base of Scotts Bluff National Monument.

Jackson has always been a one person dog, and that one person isn't me. When Victoria is home, he sticks to her like glue. But since we have been walking together, he sometimes seeks me out, gazing up at me expectantly, hoping for a walk. If he hears me opening the closet to get his halter and leash, he comes running, and if I call for him to come take a walk, he dashes down the stairs from Victoria's room, eager to join me.

The first few months we walked together, Jackson the Wimp, as we called him, cowered behind me whenever he spotted a dog in someone's fenced-in yard, or trotting along, on leash, with another walker. If I took him outside on a wintry day, he balked, refusing to step in the snow, straining at the leash to head back into the warm house. That happened again, just a couple of weeks ago, but I insisted he walk in the snow anyway, and after the first block, he was plowing excitedly through the drifted snow.

But it is Jackson's attitude toward other dogs that has changed the most. No longer a wimp, he pulls at the leash and heads straight toward any dog we see, regardless of size. If we meet another leashed dog on the walking path, I have to scoop Jackson into my arms and carry him until we are well past the other dog because, if I don't, my formerly meek companion will pick a fight with every dog he meets, and I will be caught in the middle of it.

I've been working diligently to retrain Jackson, with some success, but I still find myself choosing our route carefully. Now, Jackson merely glances toward the trio of yappy lapdogs that bark at him from inside the picture window of their house. He always tries to cross the street to get closer to the bigger, more aggressive German Shepherd that dares to bark at us from the other side of his flimsy, chain link fence, but Jackson is learning that he has to walk in the direction I dictate.

There is one unpleasant route, though, that I try to avoid. When I forget, and start down that block-long street, I feel like I am running the gauntlet, with big dogs barking and lunging at their respective fences across the street from each other, as Jackson pulls, first one way, and then the other, in a fruitless attempt to get close enough to one of his foes to show them just who is boss.

He needs a new title; Jackson the Bully comes to mind.

Jackson surveys the scene, undoubted hoping to see another dog on the path ahead of us.

Now, in the twenty-first century, the phrase running the gauntlet, simply means to go through an unpleasant experience in which a lot of people (or in this case, animals) are criticizing or attacking you in some way. Centuries ago, running the gauntlet had a somewhat different connotation. Then, it was a military punishment in which the offender was made to run between two rows of men who struck at him with switches or weapons, or even actual gauntlets (armored gloves), as he passed. Either way, running the gauntlet is never an enjoyable experience.

Lately, I feel like so many of us loyal American citizens are running a gauntlet of our own, between two opposing political parties who, in their attempts to discredit each other, end up hurting the people they have been elected to serve. No longer content to serve the people, many politicians, on both sides of the fence, have become self-serving bullies who need to be retrained, or even replaced. 

This is not an easily fixable problem. It will require much prayer, because our God is the only one who can really help. From the beginning of time, he has been in the business of fixing our sin problems. Thankfully, even when the world around us seems lost in chaos, God doesn't change.