The outlook is sunny for Dima every day.
There is never a score, but he always wants to play.
When his favorite ball is in the middle of the room
He wakes up in the morning and towards it goes zoom!
Nobody watches as he licks his paws with spit
That ball will not sit silent as it is about to be hit
But then after a while it rolls under the couch
Dima stares and meows as he stares with his crouch
From the bedroom awake his master and his lady
They hear him meow, "Let's play the game, I'm ready."
Dima allows them to break fast for a little chat
But when they are finished Dima is at bat
His master or his lady retrieve the ball out from under
The desire to play resounds from the cat like thunder
He waits for the ball to pitched at the couch
And for the first round, the cat struck out
There is no other cat to replace Dima at the plate
He satisfied to stand there, to hit is his fate
After a few innings, the cats bats the ball
Although there are no home runs, that's all
The score is zero and he is content
As long as his baseball energy has been spent
Now we can go to eat his morning meal
To him that game was a really big deal
Translator's Note: Dima decided to write about himself in third person as an experiment to see if he could view himself as human. I told him that the poem does seem very human-written, but there are some elements that are completely feline. I hope it wasn't lost in translation.
