"Meow," my father said, and I believed my heart broke then and there.
He would bleed her, and his French—la, my cat can meow better French.
"They meow and cry like everything on the back fence," said the third fiddler.
That is what dogs do when they bay at the moon, cats when they meow, and the birds when they sing.
But if Wright did not understand me, as I hoped he would ...