It noticed him before he noticed it. Mabel took no notice whatsoever, at least of her new observer, but nonetheless it observed her. Or at least recorded her activity. His too. Its eye indicated the potential of an actual observer, now or at the very least at another time, when it would recount its recordings. Unaware of this one matter (present matter, at least), but aware of vastly more present inputs, Mabel went on with her investigation. He watched her surveying yet unaware, and considered the eye's relay.
Oral tradition had reached the immediate conclusion. Through fable and drama, literature and film, so through reality TV and Twitter, YouTube and the Ring Smart Doorbell camera. He felt the wave break and emerged nonplussed, imagining the viewer of this particular vision, their sentry alerting them to his intrusion. A quick glance through the portal would tell the story, but why not linger and observe this trespass?
It was clear now that Mabel would soon shit in this person's yard. He didn't think it was illegal or anything, and it was Berkeley—nobody was going to shoot him over something so petty, even if they WERE watching and recording the whole scene from their "device" inside. She pivoted, then turned on a dime, swiveled back, rotated, and finally tucker her rear end toward the ground, tail protruding upward and clear. The car horn in the driveway blared twice, and suddenly, movement from inside the vehicle. And a voice? He hadn't thought twice about the Chevy in the driveway, shadowed from the streetlight by a dense tree canopy—at least not of this car in this situation, now. Cars in general seemed like a trap to him.