Almost ashamed to admit it, but the fox stole my shoes... for the second time. Or, more accurately, stole my shoe: a very fine Paul Smith tan brogue, if you are interested. You have no idea how stupid I felt staring at the one she left and wondering how to explain it? How much a new pair would cost? And how I was going to walk home in my wellingtons?
I had seen her earlier in the evening, happily loping around, and had even wondered if this was another fox or had she recovered so quickly from being hit by a car. But unless all foxes have a fetish for shoes, figure we can applud her speedy mend while perhaps wishing she wasn't quite so quick on her feet.
Less keen on her taste in footwear. Though admit to being impressed by her stealthy ninja stealing skills as I was only 10ft or so away putting in rows of chicory and winter spinach. Admittedly it was pretty gloomy – the days of popping in to the plot after work are drawing to a close, but I didn't hear her escape.
Anyway, I had pretty much given up rooting round fruitlessly in the hedge she dropped them last time when my neighbour Kate came over. It was while I was telling her my hard-luck (and hard-to-believe) story that I decided to have another look and luckily found the missing shoe. Unfortunately, it was also then that Kate saw that one of her shoes had been stolen from where she had left it on the wall. We felt around in the now near-dark, and found another boot but not Kate's (suspect somewhere there is a Fagin's cave of single shoes where I might even find my missing camera case). Anyone knows of any other foxes with a shoe-fetish or other unlikely appetites?
