My husband had lately taken to staring at our neighbor's golden retriever's hindquarters, and I felt something was off. It wasn't until Janet stormed over in a fury that I learned the appalling thing he'd done to that poor creature!
An Unsettling Beginning
It began about a month ago. I noticed Tom behaving oddly—not in any drastic way, just subtle shifts. Instead of heading straight for the fridge to grab a beer or collapsing on the sofa after work, he'd linger by the living room window, gazing outside. That window overlooks Janet's backyard, where she keeps Bella, a gentle female golden retriever. At first, I dismissed it—maybe he was watching birds or simply daydreaming. But as it happened repeatedly, unease began to creep in.

The Gaze from the Window
His stare wasn't the relaxed gaze of someone enjoying the view. It was fixed, intense, almost predatory, his lips slightly downturned in stern concentration. Once, Bella lay far across the yard on the grass, yet Tom stood there transfixed for nearly ten minutes. When I approached and asked what he was looking at, he jerked as if startled, his elbow hitting the window frame with a sharp bang. He turned to me, brow furrowed with evasion, muttered "Nothing," and retreated to the fridge. It felt like I'd interrupted something profoundly private—a deeply unsettling moment.


An Afternoon Experiment
One weekend under a pleasant sun, I went to hang the laundry in our backyard. Tom followed me out. As I draped a shirt over the clothesline, I saw him stride toward the low wooden fence separating our yard from Janet's. Bella was basking on the other side. Tom crouched down and reached through the slats. I thought he meant to pat her head as she nuzzled closer, but no—his hand slid straight to her rump, near the base of her tail. From my vantage point, it was unmistakable.

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