…with me and doormats?

That’s what I’m wondering.

When we lived in New York, we had an odd thing happen with our doormat.  One day, it was just missing.  Gone.

Who would steal a doormat?

That’s what we asked ourselves.

It was kind of a nuisance, but no big loss.  It wasn’t like we had invested a lot of money, time or thought into choosing the doormat.  We just shook our heads over the astonishing triviality of the theft and went about our day.

Next time we crossed our threshhold, the doormat was back.

What could this mean?  Was someone playing a particularly pointless prank? Was the building’s porter moving it when he mopped the floor?  Moving it out of sight?

We had no idea.  A day or two went by, and then the doormat went missing again.  It continued to vanish and return at odd intervals.

Eventually, we discovered that a homeless man was entering the building late on cold nights, collecting doormats and carrying them up to the stair landing next to the door to the roof.  I guess they made some sort of bed, and he carefully returned them to their rightful doors in the morning.  And, as usually happens, eventually he moved on—to a better place, as they say—which may or may not have been of this world.

Now, I live in Florida.

And my doormat has taken to moving in the night.  Again.

It’s not disappearing.  And heaven knows, it’s not cold enough for any homeless person to need it as insulation.  It’s just migrating a foot or two.

Is it bears?  An armadillo?  A lizard the size of a Buick?

Maybe it’s a raccoon, or a dog with a strange liking or disliking for doormats.  (If it’s a squirrel, that’s it.  I will get that water cannon if it’s the last thing I do.)

I see no possibility of solving the mystery without time-lapse video.

But I’m wondering.