The sound was so soft that he almost didn’t hear it over the television. It was a scratching, scuffing sound that made Tom think of knocking the mud off his shoes when he came in through the back door. It could have been anything and he wasn’t the sort of man to jump at strange sounds so he settled deeper into his chair.
He was dozing, wrapped in the sort of warmth that came from security and nearly good health, and was almost asleep when he heard the sound again. The same scuffing, just underneath a green and fragrant crackling that he knew was coming from the side of the house.
“Dammit, Lee,” he muttered under his breath. He was sick of his neighbor letting that damn dog nose through his bushes. It always preceded a massive bowel movement and left both his bushes and yard in a sorrier…
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