A Cautionary Tail

We householders are cautioned by law enforcement agencies to beware of making things easy for would-be intruders. Particularly throughout the summer months, when people think nothing of leaving their doors and windows wide open, inviting entry to those whose intentions are clearly criminally mischievous. Thieves are actively on the lookout to advance themselves at the expense of the unwary. And since most people don't have sociopathic tendencies themselves it's difficult for them to imagine how an innocent lack of caution can result in personal catastrophe.

They come silently, stealthily, on quietly padded feet, aware that most people are simply unaware. Counting on our innocence to betray us. And it does. All it takes is a lapse of vigilance, and an absence of imagination. Plan on doing something on the second floor of your house and leave the front door wide agape, the screen door easily pushed open for quiet entrance? Busy in the backyard doing some gardening, never imagining that your unlocked door can, and likely will be quietly swung open to admit uninvited guests bent on relieving you of prized possessions?

It happens, and likely it has happened on your street. As it has on the street where we live.

And now, we have experienced the shock of invasion, the feeling of violation. Social betrayal. Simply as a result of our having been too trusting. I suppose I should back up and explain a little. I was upstairs, dusting the furniture on the second floor. My husband was outside, trying to level a large area in the corner of our backyard to enable him to erect a garden shed in that space. We were both busy. Our two little dogs - our wonderfully reliable guard dogs - both snoozing, upstairs.

Despite my husband being so busy, he had awoken early, at half-past six in the morning, to start a bread in the bread machine for me. Wait: I know this sounds irrelevant; let me continue. We're bread lovers, our entire family. The staff of life, right? My husband bakes killer breads, we don't buy commercial product. For me, he uses whole-wheat flours, and tons of seeds, sunflower, anise, fennel, caraway - I love the finished product. It's dark, moist and savoury beyond imagination. The bread had finished baking. I set it out on the kitchen counter to cool.

The aroma was, understandably irresistible. And, it was an awfully windy day. Cool, sunny and windy. The breakfast room sliding door-screen leading to the deck responded to the wind. Yep, wide open. The thief who fled our house revealed himself by his conspicuously red hair. His hasty and flamboyant exit caused by my puzzlement on coming downstairs, hearing sharp noises in the kitchen did not leave many clues. But I did see that tiny red rump and that long, flame-red tail as he scampered back out via that open screen door.

I can only surmise that he must have posted himself on top of the bread, nibbling happily and lustily at the top crust. After his hasty exit I cut away parts of the top where he had obviously feasted, gathered the pieces and took them outside, leaving them on the top of the fence. Atrocious table manners.