The Crinkle Ball and the Cat

Giving chase to a Crinkle Ball
Causes her endless delight,
My sweet little tiger striped kitty,
Whose name is Emma Margaret.

The puff of Ball, red and blue,
Is interlaced with silver sheet,
Colored metallic plastic material,
Giving the toy its crinkle sound.

Why is the small Crinkle Ball
Her favorite and not the large
Which sounds the same to her,
At least it does to me.

Who taught her to fetch
or me to fetch with her?
The "trick" that will be
Repeated again and again.

Emma can be seen walking
Through the living room
Or the bedroom or hall
With Crinkle Ball in mouth.

And with Crinkle Ball in mouth
She will continuously talk and
Scream and wine and cry,
Not in pain, but in delight.

She will run kick, kick run,
Chasing after the Ball in perfect
Form, much like a soccer player
In her prime on a winning team.

Then screeching to a sudden halt
And dropping the Ball from her mouth
She clumsily falls down upon it
Looking around innocently.

The Ball is gone, where is the Crinkle?
The sound is no longer heard, listen.
But wait, what's that she hears?
Surprise ... the Crinkle Ball.

She will lie on the bathroom floor
Paw placed carefully on Crinkle Ball
Contemplating her next creative move
Then suddenly turn her head upside-down.

And attack the poor helpless Crinkle Ball
A puff ball in red and blue and noisy silver
The source of endless exercise and play,
And wonder.