A Tale of Footprints

The snow fell, fat and sloppy on dimpled sidewalks, piling slush near the edges as occasional passersby splashed in their haste to get home for the evening, chins tucked into their collars and hands pushed deep into pockets.  I'd stood at the window, drink in hand, watching the sprites play an extreme game of team tag, zipping in between the six pointed stars and dodging the larger, dangerous flakes.  They'd flit over to the glowball hanging under the eaves by my door and warm their hands, trash-talking their competition all the while.

The city slept late and woke muzzily, drawing apart bedroom curtains to blink in the whiteness of a snow hushed morning.  Opening my door for the morning paper, I was dismayed to find it gone again.  For weeks now, it had intermittently gone missing, supposedly to a neighbour who rose earlier than I.   From the huge pine beside the house, Old Crow laughed raucously down at me.  She absolutely knew the culprit .. she never missed knowing where treasure was, even if it wasn't her idea of treasure.  This time, however, the weather worked with me, leaving evidence that lead through my back gardens and out to the cedar hedging.  I had to admire the intrepid nature of my paper thief, venturing out into a world that few in this area had experienced.

-------------------------------

All of which is a long way of saying ... I wonder who walked through my garden early this morning.  I suppose it was the neighbour's cat, but could have been anything.