My feline friend Sinead is stretched out on the couch. When I look in her direction, and she is looking back in mine, she sometimes says, "Meow," in an especially funny way.
It's not like the "When are you going to feed me?" meow, or like the "Gosh darn it, it's treat time!" meow, or (least of all) like the "Kowabunga!" yell she gives on the rare occasions when she tries to dart past me in the doorway to the vestibule of the apartment building. Nor is it like the plaintive, "Won't you cuddle me?" plea she makes when she comes over to me and asks to be admitted to my lap.
Rather, it's a unique meow, accompanied by a beckoning motion of her head, while the cat stays right where she is. It's as if she's ordering me to come to her and bring a bunch of loving with me. Or perhaps it's just a cat's cocky way of saying, "Yo. What up, dawg?"
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