Roz: You know, the longer you put it off the worse he's going to feel when you finally tell him.
Frasier: Yes, I know that. I'm a psychiatrist. I'm quite capable of dealing with difficult problems in a sensitive mature fashion. [opens the door to leave] Wait! Did you hear that? That squeak!
Roz: What squeak?
Frasier: He's here. It's Bob!
Roz: I don't hear anything.
Frasier: Oh, that's right. Only dogs and I can hear it.
Roz: Frasier, you're being paranoid.
[wheelchair squeaks]
Frasier: No. It's the sound of his chair. I'd know it anywhere. [Frasier see's Bob's tartan hat move across the window] Oh, my God!