Young Ponyo jumps curiously
Without an inch of stealth.
Focused, unfocused, focused once more,
A blue bottle is her prey.
Minutes turn into hours,
The search continues.
Paw-only swipes through mid-air,
Wobbling on her two back legs,
She thumps the blue bottle softly
Against the skirting board,
Squashed, under the carpet.
The blue bottle is to never be seen again
But still buzzes when Ponyo stomps
Over the carpet,
Under her favourite windowsill.
She refuses to be a cat at times
Stung by a wasp on her front paw
Digestion was her revenge
Pulling a funny face,
Meowing at her mother,
“I ate the wasp that attacked me!”
Proud with confusion.
Her inquisitive little mind
Not questioning her actions,
Set off into the garden again,
To see what she could find.