“Mraaaw!” said Dolly, standing by the kitchen door.
“It’s not very nice out there this morning, Dolly,” I said.
“Mraaaw!”
“It’s the rag tag and bobtails of Hurricane Bill, all the way from North America.”
“Mraaaw!”
“Well, alright, then. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Mraaaw!”
I opened the door just in time to catch a good healthy rain-laden squall blowing up the catio and into the kitchen.
Dolly was horrified. Then Dolly was cross. Very cross.
She pulled back, all feline outrage, and gave me a final disgust-laden “Mraaaw!” before scuttling back into the hallway and then into the living room.
I’ll not attempt a translation of that last “Mraaaw!” It certainly wasn’t lady-like and I don’t want to give the impression that Dolly knows language quite like that.
“Mraaaw!” indeed.
