New York state of meow

I've had the pleasure of observing several generations of ferals from the same feline families.  Since a female cat can have several litters a year, the meaning of a generation is tricky. For my evil purposes, generations mean the kids of kids of kids, etc.  


I am aware that cats have different voices.  Ninety per cent of the time, I can tell which cat is howling on the other side of a closed door.  I also know they use an impressive vocabulary of sounds and "words" when they're speaking in cat.  But until I met Vic and her daughter Ginger, I didn't know cats could have accents.

Vic and Ginger speak with  New York accents.  This sounds strange but their meows sound stranger.  The pair don't meow, they may-yew.  Like all the rest of these ferals, Vic and Ginger were born in the same 'hood.  None of these cats have traveled out of town, never mind out of state.  None of the outdoor cats have been exposed to television.  It's not likely they can afford internet service or Ipods.  Being local yokels, there's no reason why a single one of these cats should have an accent.  But two of them do.

Vic and Ginger have been examined by vets.  Except for the extra digits on their front paws, there is nothing physically different about the pair.  One time a vet did mention that Ginger had bad breath.  But neither Ginger's halitosis or Vic's cropped ear should affect their accents.

I suppose it's possible Ginger and Vic have hung out with some out of state ferals and picked up some of their lingo.  But until I actually meet some New York ferals in person, I have no way of knowing if they really say may-yew instead of meow.

Since Vic is about six years old and Ginger is five, it's not likely I'll ever figure out why they have accents.
 The best way to cope with this mystery is to be philosophical about it.  So, may-yew.  It's just a New York state of meow.