There was a chaotic tangle of Pesto grabbing at her, of her tripping and of gangly limbs and snorting mucus and fat baby furball all wrapped up in a confusing moment of baby playfighting. With an overdramatized puppy snarl she pounced, fell, and aimed a sideways, fallen-down bite at the sickly-looking fur.

She had no idea, of course, that they were a plague vector. She only knew PLAYTIME, and FUN, and BITING, and GROWLING.

"RAWRRLL" was all she actually 'said,' weak baby jaws and a clumsy shake of her neck on offer.

She couldn't really make sense of the rest of it, but it was fun, and that's all that mattered.