To rear window is quite definitely an active verb in this household: I rear window, she rear windows, we both rear window. But the objects of our attentions in the apartment block out back are not the 2009 equivalents of Miss Torso, bouncing pneumatically up and down as she practices her dance routine, nor a bickering couple, nor Miss Lonelyheart, pouring red wine for an imaginary guest. All of these people may live here (though the apartment contains more than its fair share of English Department graduate students, which is enough to stop one looking very hard). No, we look for the cats. For on a good day, almost every window has its cat looking out.
This fine black and white cat lives in the top left hand apartment (and is evidence not of my deploying a zoom lens - for yes, I do feel conspicuous pointing such a thing at the windows - but of blowing up one little section of a picture taken just a cat-stretch before the larger image) and spends a good deal of his/her time staring at birds - as does the grey cat next door, as does... The reason for this super-population lies in the Super of the apartment building, who is very active in a local organization called Cattitude (just in case you were looking for a cat to adopt).
Even in Hitchcock's movie, cats are clearly favored above dogs - the small yapping bone-burying pooch meets A Bad End, before he can dig up Whatever Is In the Hat Box, but the large orange cat is still sprawled on a chair in the sun at the end.