I suspect the fox is stealing my delivery parcels off the doorstep, but I’m not going to escalate without proof
It is late afternoon, and I’m standing before the living room’s big bay window, with its commanding view of the street, when I hear the middle one coming down the stairs and turning the corner to the kitchen.
“Look at this,” I say. I can hear the reluctance in the slowing of his footsteps as he changes course.
