It’s midnight. My eyes pop open. I’m laying in bed, slightly sweating from all of the solar radiation that I picked up today. There it is again, the unmistakable sound of footsteps up on our east porch.

I get up, grab my solar flashlight, and put on a bathrobe and DC flipflops. As I climb the stairs, I can softly hear the animal walking outside of the house. I top the stairs and shine the light out the dining room window. There, the two beady eyes look in through the glass at me from a distance of about 6 feet away. The eyes are red in the light.

I walk quietly over to the French doors, and open one gently. Stepping out onto the porch to face my foe, I approach the beast. Pandora’s Box opens up…

act 1.

I yell an Indian war cry and wave my hands in the air as I rush the animal.

The offending beast takes off, away from me toward the garage end of the deck.

Seeing the ladder and Tweety Bird folding chairs stacked at the end of the deck, the intruder turns 180 degrees, and runs straight toward me!

I lunge for the animal, determined to rid my property of its presence.

The speeding nymph pulls free of my grasp and runs to the French doors.

With only a slight pause, the beast enters my home. It is now inside of my house!

I run inside the house, confronting the white specter, yelling, “I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!”

A nasty square dance ensues, with the beast, two glass doors, a pile of house building tools , clean laundry hanging up, and myself.

The solar light is shorting out, and blinks on and off wildly; like some cheap disco effect.

The intruder stumbles out of my house and onto the deck.

I chase the beast around my house several times, throwing small rocks at its hind quarters, in a vain attempt to chase it off of my property.

It likes my house and property…

act 2.

I’m in the basement, yelling at my wife to get up and help me capture the animal.

She’s bleary eyed from lack of sleep, and a bit confused.

It’s 12:30 am, and I’ve been squaring off with the animal for over a half hour, now.

I’m exhausted, frustrated, and my blood pressure is nearing the “hospitalization” threshold.

act 3.

My oldest daughter is calmly standing on the east porch, with a lasso around the wild creature’s neck.

I show up in my bathrobe and flipflops and ask her how she did it.

The animal lunges down the length of the deck, toward the Tasmanian Devil folding chair, and launches off of a 5 ft. high spot.

My daughter hangs on for dear life, trying not to be pulled off of the deck.

She’s now wrestling with the midnight intruder and it’s dragging her towards the cliff next to our house.

I scream at my daughter to help her, and she says, “Leave me alone! I’ve got it!”

A lot of yelling ensues, mostly from my end. I grab the rope, and drag the animal with all of my might. It is kicking and flopping and pulling both me and my daughter along a steep moonlight hillside.

There are pleas for mercy, and the animal lays nearly motionless on the dirt.

Suddenly, it jumps up and the fight begins again.

We wrestle it generally in the direction of our intended goal…

act 4.

The lamb is now safely in our shed, being comforted by my daughter.

I’m nailing boards on the doors like Wiley Coyote, as I try to secure that sheep for the night. It reminds me of another time I had to do this same type of thing. But that’s another story…

I put a pan of water into the shed.

My wife is stumbling around in the moonlight, wearing her pajamas.

She’s pulling grass for the lamb.

My daughter is removing multiple ropes from the now-docile lamb.

We waddle back across the steep hillside.

It’s 1:30 am.

It’s time to go to bed.

My daughter won the belt buckle.

The Midnight Rodeo is over.