We had these floor vents in my boyhood home. So cool! You could be in the upstairs bedroom and carry on a conversation with someone in the cellar without either of you having raise his voice. All the ducts, of course, communicated with the furnace.
But what’s the poor dog to make of this? Like, it’s a voice coming from the floor! A familiar voice–but what’s she doing as a disembodied voice emanating from the freakin’ floor? No wonder he can’t stop barking.