A friend's cat, yclept Kat-harine Hepburn, though painfully shy at most times, used to love to come out and dance on her hind legs every time my friend would play her bowed psaltery. The dogs, however, cleaved not unto the sacred screechings and angelic harmonics that poured forth, but rather crept beneath the floorboards of the porch where they whimpered softly and prayed for quieter days...