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Midnight Intruder

All alone, late one night, I couldn't sleep and decided to do some serious house cleaning. I got into the cleaning mode and at one point had my back door propped open so I could sweep sand back outside. This was on a ranch down in South Texas and sand is always a problem. I'd finished cleaning the den and progressed to the kitchen. In the middle of giving my cabinets a serious scrub down I heard a noise from the den.

At first I thought it was my dog, but then I realized Dottie was lying under the kitchen table. Her head was raised and attention fixed on the door that led into the den. Hearing still another mysterious noise I carefully backed to the counter, opened a drawer and pulled out my biggest butcher knife.

With my heart pounding double time, I clutched the knife, and tried to decide what to do next. Now I could tell that the sounds I was hearing were footsteps. It sounded as if there might be two people. Dottie picked up on my fear and was standing in front of me softly growling.

I couldn't get to the telephone, which was in the den, and my nearest neighbors were five miles away. Terrified, I decided that, since I couldn't run, any intruder was going to be hurt as much as I could hurt him.

The footsteps came closer. They paused and I heard the rattle as something stirred the pretty rocks I kept in a dish on my coffee table. The steps resumed their progress towards the kitchen.

By now I was trembling from the adrenaline jag and fainting was a serious possibility. Then something about the height of an average sized man poked past the door frame. My rattled brain refused to process any information. More of the intruder poked forward.

At last, there was an entire head with two large brown eyes peering at me. The ears were picked at attention. And, finally, I realized my burglar was my two year old Paint stallion, Little Bit.

Little Bit was a chestnut and white Tobiano, who came by his name by virtue of being smaller than my other horses. At two he was only about 13.2 hands tall. He was nicely built and had a really cute personality. I'd started teaching him some tricks as a yearling because he really liked hanging out with people. About the same time I went to a clinic where Walter "Chappy" Chapman, a premier Arabian trainer of the time, showed people how to teach some of the simpler tricks to their horses.

Trick training had the side effect of encouraging Little Bit to try lots of different things. He was adept at opening gates. If I didn't secure his stall or pasture gate he'd let himself out and come up to the house to see what was going on. Until now the yard gate had defeated him, but apparently he'd finally figured out how to flip it up and back. Naturally, once inside the yard, Little Bit was not going to hesitate at entering a house when the door was wide open.

I was so relieved that I dropped the knife in the sink and gave him some carrots. Not the wisest thing I've ever done. Little Bit now knew where the goodies really were and it was necessary to take some extraordinary steps to keep him in his stall or pen.

Little Bit was a horse that could and would do anything, chase cows, pull logs, and serve as a lesson horse. He was a trail horse par excellence and as a trick horse that entertained at all the local parades and rodeos for years. He crossed the rainbow bridge at 30 years of age and I am certain they are having a heck of a time keeping him out of the goodies.

Learn more about this author, Elizabeth J Baldwin.
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