Winston peered out across the plain. A warm breeze caressed his back and neck. Yep, this place would do nicely. Apart from a couple trees, it was nothing but flat earth in all directions. Dust and dry grass. Sparse shrubbery, but none higher than his knees. There was safety in such desolation. Any approach, any angle, and Winston would see it coming a mile away.
And yet, he couldn't quite shake the feeling he was being watched.
Now try this: Read the story again, but this time ignore the photo. That is, think of the characters as people, not animals. (It's interesting how much a single image can change your perception of a story, isn't it?)