Hopping the Gauntlet

Walking the gauntlet. Running the Gauntlet. Hopping the Gauntlet. That's me and the wife, 4:45 AM.

Our neighborhood is by no means rural in any capacity. Our 'hood was built in the 1990's, with big trees ripped out and foliage stripped from the ground. It's a normal, boring subdivision. Oh sure, we've got some squirrels and a few destructive chipmunks and lots of birds, but it's not like we live in the middle of nowhere. 

Usually, we see a bunny or two hopping around. Cute, furry, hopping, innocent. Natural predators seemed to keep them in line. We have a neighborhood hawk who seems to enjoy a lagomorph lunch (aka bunny on a bun) now and then. A few brave souls gave their lives to passing cars. We've seen a mangy coyote now and again but that's about it.

Until now.

The bunnies must have had a REALLY good spring as they are running amok. Everywhere you look, there are freakin' bunnies. They've mowed my hostas to the ground. TO.THE.GROUND. They've pooped little turds as far as the eye can see. They've infiltrated our yards and our lives.

When I say there are bunnies, I mean THERE ARE BUNNIES. A family of five teenage bunnies hop around together in a little bunny pack. There are big bunnies, little bunnies, fast bunnies, frozen bunnies (the kind that don't move even when you're standing three feet away), hopping bunnies, feisty bunnies (doing bunny kung fu moves), naughty bunnies, destructive bunnies. Some run down the sidewalk. Others stick to the lawn. 

It is very safe to say that natural predators are slacking on the job.

The only dead bunnies I have seen this year is one smooshed by a car (only one--almost impossible odds, in my mind, considering the volume of bunnies in the 'hood) and one killed in a most Wild Kingdom way...the carcus is right by our deck. Yuck. 

Enter the dogs.

Our dogs are bunny-crazed. I imagine almost any dog, given the chance, would be bunny hungry. Freckles and Lucy used to love chasing bunnies but that was it. Chase and be on with it. Out of sight, out of mind. They didn't bark or go on and on. They just gave a chase and then turned attention back to the task at hand. 

Have you ever heard the phrase "running the gauntlet?" According to the all-knowing Internet, running the gauntlet "has also been used, informally, to express the idea of a public but painless, ritual humiliation such as the walk of shame or to indicate a series of difficult trials that one must overcome."

The wife and I run the gauntlet every single morning. Every. Single. Morning.

Case in point: It is 5 AM. Sunday morning. The neighborhood is really quiet. It's dawn. Tranquil, beautiful, perfect temperature to go for a nice morning walk with the dogs. We start our walk all smiles and relaxed.

And then it starts. We begin our running the gauntlet. 

Bandido is always the first of the two dogs to see a bunny. She starts growling and barking and pulling on the leash. Fair enough. She's easy to get back in line. A firm "no" goes a long way with her. But, Rosita....

....dear god, you would think a wounded animal's screaming was being blasted through concert-sized speakers. A poodle yipping is bad enough. A poodle screaming takes it to a whole 'nother level. It's completely obnoxious, painful and embarrassing. I'm sure the neighbors absolutely hate us when she starts with her none-too-pleasing vocalization of bunny-praise.

To give you an idea of what she sounds like: A neighbor heard her and asked if she was okay and if she had stepping on something. It's that much like screaming in pain. It echos. It hurts my ears.

Since there are bunnies everywhere, this is absolutely horrific. The wife and I look ridiculous when we are walking. We use code words, we point, we change sides of the street, we run, we've even turned around to avoid bunny screaming. 

I used to look for money on the ground when walking. Now, I scan ahead and watch for bunnies. I can see bunny ears peeking out of the grass before I see anything else. I can see a white tale in the brush. I can see a bunny sitting on the curb (a seemingly favorite thing for them to do) a block away. But, despite my bunny-spotting prowess and proactive actions, Rosita still seems to find a bunny so she can let out a most piercing, shrill, painful scream.

I've tried everything to shut her up. I mean, I've even tried bopping her on the nose (I hated trying that, but thought a little Bunny FooFoo action would help, bopping her on the nose), getting in her face, blocking the scene with my body, picking her up, running the other way. All I manage to do is scare the shit out of Bandido and look like a fool. Rosita couldn't care less. Positive reinforcement/reward doesn't work with ol' oblivious one. Even her favorite snack and favorite squeaky mean nothing to her when a bunny is sighted. 

And, thus we hop the gauntlet. It is definitely based on public humiliation. It has morphed into the walk of shame. It is a difficult trial to be overcome. 

On the positive sign, hopping the gauntlet is the reason the wife has lost 15 pounds. We basically speed walk through the neighborhood in an effort to keep the shrill barking to a minimum. Or, at least so we can spread the wealth. We try to traumatize various parts of the neighborhood on different days of the week. 

I am going to take our dogs to obedience school this fall, with the hopes this helps whip Rosita into shape and, more importantly, to make sure this owner is doing what she should be doing. A better bet would be hiring some hawks, hunters and scrawny coyotes to cover the neighborhood. I might try investing in those horse blinders, so she can only see what is in front of her. Buying some good running shoes would help. 

Maybe we can sponsor a bunny relocation program....

....or, hold a neighborhood rabbit stew cooking competition...

...or, maybe we'll keep hopping the gauntlet as is and give Christmas gifts to all the neighbors that absolutely hate us.

Hopping down the bunny trail....

...oh, how I hate that song. 

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