But there was still the missing candy. After a few nights we realized we were still losing Chocolate Kisses. In one night we lost ten! After much questioning and denial we concluded we weren't the ones taking the candy. There were no bits of wrapper around, and no partially eaten pieces. Nothing else was disturbed. We started leaving out a couple of Kisses each night while we considered what to do next.

Being open-minded, we tried to consider all possibilities for this mystery and came up with a list:

1. Someone found the key we kept hidden outside and was using it to come in and steal our chocolate.
2. This mystery might be supernatural. We were haunted!
3. The aliens had landed.
4. Any of nearly 2,000 species of rodent had a residence with us.

Beginning with the first possibility, my husband brought the hidden key inside and locked the screen door as an added precaution. Getting into the spirit, he also tucket little pieces of folded paper in the cracks around the door that would fall if the door was opened.

That night we put one Kiss in the bowl and went to bed. Later my husband came back to bed after wandering the house, as is his middle of the night habit. He said, "The Kiss is gone, and the door has not been opened. Whatever it is, it's in here with us."

He had obviously moved on to possibility number two, the supernatural. We began a discrete but intensive questioning of our relatives, friends and neighbors to determine if anyone had "passed" due to an accident involving chocolate.

We learned much history in this effort but little of value to our investigation. My Grandma had liked chocolate-covered cherries, and my husband's family had a fondness for peppermint or bourbon-chocolate candy. But we found no one among the dead who had more like or dislike for chocolate than the living folks.

We moved on to the alien theory, the while leaving one sacrificial Kiss out each night. There were no scorch marks on the carpet or in the yard indicating a landing or beam-down site. As far as we knew, we had not been questioned or abducted. Our memories seemed no worse than usual, considering we sometimes can't remember what we had for lunch. We had no new scars indicating we were in a medical experiment. We had no more evidence for the alien theory than we had against it.

We decided to come back to this if more evidence appeared and to consider option four. As near as we could figure, we were about a week and a half and at least 27 Kisses into this mystery. To test the rodent theory we replaced the candy with sunflower seeds. In the morning the seeds were gone, all but a few dropped here and there leading toward a closet. This closet opened into a narrow space behind a wall that accommodates plumbing. Now we had some idea where the Creature was living.

This must be a chocolate-sunflowerseed-eating creature with pouches or pockets. Could it be an escaped gerbil or hamster? Or do aliens have pouches or pockets?

I asked the neighbors if anyone had lost a pet gerbil or hamster but, if they had, they weren't admitting it. I got several interesting suggestions on how to trap the creature, and we started devising traps. We didn't want to kill it, at least not until we found out what it was, so we tried to make a live-trap. Our son thought whatever this creature was, it might be a good pet. We had to do something fast!

The trap evolved over many days, changing slightly each time the creature got the bait without being caught. We started with a large metal ammo box, pushed up against a large chair with a paper towel draped over one side to lure the creature into the notion it could jump into the box from the chair, get the Kiss, and climb out on the paper towel. The paper towel would fall in, and the creature would be captured. But the towel was held too firmly between the chair and the ammo box, and our guest eluded us, taking another Kiss.

We tried again with a less securely held towel the next night and didn't lose the Kiss, but didn't catch the Creature either. We began to suspect the creature could jump great distances or fly!

As friends and relatives learned of our nightly contest we received much advice about building traps. Unfortunately most proposed plans involved a crucial material we didn't have, or was not invested yet. Lasers and portable quicksand pits are first to come to mind. We continued to modify the trap using sheets of plastic held with rubber bands, little gang planks, and mirrors. The creature continued to rack up Kisses.

Deciding we had tauned it enough with homemade traps, we went to a store to buy a real one. The first question I was asked was, "What kind of animal are you trapping?"

We were back to the list of possibilities again!

"I don't know," I said. "Something big enough to carry a Kiss, and small enough to fit in the space allowed for plumbing (unless it can change shapes)." I decided this was probably not the proper time to reconsider the alien issue. Before long the entire helpful staff was involved in a discussion about ordents and rodents' lifestyles.

Traps are not all-purpose. They work better if you know the intended victim! We were told it was not a mouse or a rat, because we had seen no droppings or partially eaten things. It was not a squirrel. A squirrel would be digging in the house plants and making noises. I wasn't ready to consider it might be a weasel, and I prayed it couldn't fly. After much consideration we chose a trap big enough to catch a hamster or chipmunk, but with mesh small enough to contain a mouse. There was still the possibility of it being a mutant or an entirely unknown creature. Brushing this thought aside, we hoped this new store-bought trap would put a quick end to the mystery.

That night we lost Kiss number 30. The trap wasn't even sprung. The next night we tried again and lost Kiss 31. Switching back to sunflower seeds we reset the trap, imagining a chocolate-crazed chipmunk. Again the creature took the seeds without springing the pacifist trap. Realizing we were up against a master thief, the next night we employed a needle and thread to tie the Kiss to the trap. The results were the same except foil was left on the floor nearby. We figured it would use the thread for dental floss. When we were out of Kisses, we substituted York Peppermint Patties which the creature did not like. I went to town for another bag of Kisses.

Now that I am considering the creature's likes and dislikes at the grocery store, it seems almost a part of the family. In a little more than two weeks we have lost 32 Kisses and three bowls of sunflower seeds. My husband, who in the beginning set the traps with confidence each night, now does so with an air of resignation. The word fate has crept into our conversations. My son wonders why the creature is allowed more chocolate than he. I have begun to worry about the creature's cholesterol levels and whether he or she will get Alzheimer's disease from the foil on the Kisses.

If the names imprinted on future Christmas cards from us include "the Creature," I hope you will understand.