If you happen to see us out in public these days, you’re bound to hear some meowing — along with some strange, not-quite-intelligible words.

Much to our dismay, the large cat alter-ego of 3-year-old Bliss is back. In full force.

It was probably a year ago, maybe a bit more, that I first wrote about Blissy’s ever-changing alter-egos. First, she was a helicopter, followed by a kitty and the oil-pumper (not Mom’s favorite, to be sure.) Then, miraculously, the small girl just began being, well, herself.

For many months, she rarely slipped into any identity other than that of a girl named Bliss. And our world was right.

Then, suddenly and without provocation, the large kitty was back.

It started with meowing one morning, followed by the announcement from my one-time daughter, “I’m not Bliss. I’m a kitty, and my name is Scratch Wood.”

Okay, then.

I played along for a day, maybe two, before I got tired of the meowing, and pleaded, “Bliss, will you please talk like a girl?”

Same response. “I’m a kitty named Scratch Wood. Meow.”

Unfortunately, with another year under her belt, her attention span is larger, thus her ability to maintain her new identity has also increased.

And another year also means the kitty has an answer for everything.

One night, as I was putting Bliss/Scratch Wood to bed, she calmly informed me that she just wasn’t tired.

“You know, Mom, cats are nocturnal animals. Meow.”

My response: “Oh, but you are a different kind of cat Miss Scratch Wood. Good night.”

What’s a mother to do?

Her dad was even exasperated at Halloween. After I dressed her in her ladybug costume, complete with black and red ballet skirt, wings and antennae, she looked, well, cute as a bug.

We hurried to show Brad her costume. After the requisite “ooohs and ahhs,” Brad said, “Honey, I think you’re the cutest ladybug I’ve ever seen.

“Dad, I’m not really a ladybug,” she said. “I’m a kitty dressed as a ladybug. My name is Scratch Wood.”

Along with all of this came a gradual change in language. Thank you became “meow-you,” please became “meow-please.” You get the idea. Now, increasingly, the first syllable of every word is replaced by meow.

The other night, I told Bliss — I mean Scratch Wood — that she and Mommy were going on a “date” to Adriano’s for pizza, the kitty’s favorite food.

Her eyes lit up. “Oh good,” she said. “I love to go to Meow-iano’s for meow-zza.”