The Case of the Snowy Footprints

I looked out the front door windows. It’s a daily thing, glancing out when I first leave the bedroom, on alert for zombies, mushroom clouds, or cats waiting to come in. What I saw locked me in the space.

Footprints in the snow came up the walk to the porch.

I’d checked the area around three AM. I’d been up – cat business – and fetched a glass of water. Since I was in the area, I looked out. No footprints marred the walk’s snow, then. Not even animal prints.

Putting on shoes and picking up my phone, I went out to ensure nothing on the porch was gone. Two chairs and a glider are out there. But thieves have been going around stealing whatever is available. The footprints were photographed. One compared to my foot, so I’d guess it’s a men’s 10 ½. The other was smaller.

I traced the steps to the garage. They’d followed my tire tracks up to the garage and then went up the walk.

Could be I’m paranoid. Maybe totally innocuous. Our security camera died last year.

Time to buy a new one.