Tim Dowling: I’ve come to respect the fox. But our dog is still a hardliner

I suspect the fox is stealing my delivery parcels off the doorstep, but I’m not going to escalate without proof

I

t 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.

“What,” he says, drawing up alongside me, laptop under his chin.