A Pome for Blue

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This little white menace is squaking again.
Squacking? Oh, this is a noise that she makes
(because she is deaf and does not know the actual
noises that regular cats will chuck at you)
which is a mixture between a quack and squawk.

No meows from this feline, just a constant piercing
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAKKKKKKKKKKK”
when you look her in the eyes.

I am not even staring at her right now
but I am being bombarded from the windows sill
with squacks aplenty, I can assure you.

She wants rubs and wants to sit on your lap
but she hates bare skin
and I get too hot, so she jumps on and off
and on and off and squacks and stabs
my poor thighs with every move.

This kid cannot make up her mind.

Then again, she is the best behaved
of these little furballs. Never getting in fights
for food. Never making mess anywhere
or demanding too much.

Just a lazy, loud, cloud of kit.

Just wish her long white hair did
not moult 24/7 and get absolutely everywhere.
Nothing quite like eating lunch
and seeing bits of her coat in the nutella.

I allow a sneak glance in her direction
and she knew it and was waiting and now
I must give her rubs and attention
all the while the squacks continue
with every word I utter.

“What?”
“AAAAAAAAAAKKKKKK”
“You gotta tell me what it is.”
“AAAAAAAKKKKKKK!!!!!!”

For now,
the chin scritches seem to appease,
for now.