Please correct this writing to a more natural one for me:) I want to be Miss Diana's dog like crazy. But Miss Diana says who she likes is cat. I cry out. I know what I'm crying out for when I'm nor a dog neither a cat. It's because I'm actually a mouse. I've never fancied that Miss Diana would be into me. I know it clearly, that everyone likes lovely and adorable cats or dogs, and nobody likes dreary mice with diseases. But I still asks Miss Diana,"Could I be your dog?" I know I'm fated not to be a dog. But if she liked dogs, then I can watch her by her side for forever, even if it was always a dog that she was holding in her arms. However she says she likes cats. She is still looking at me, cheering me up, because the cat has not appeared yet, leaving me alone, a mouse who sneaks out from the hole and looks at her in the eye from a distance. When the cat she likes comes, perhaps I should go back to my hole again. But I still like her so much. Could she look at me more when I'm still around. Miss Diana says she will spend every Christmas Eve with us. I don't know who "us" is referring to. I really hope the set can make a endocytosis for me. The cat is still afraid of Miss Diana. I will go lure the cat to her. I know a little carelessness will lead me to death of the cat's mouth. When that day comes, Miss Diana may wrap my body carefully and throw it out of the door. I hope she can throw me nearby, because I still like her so much. And the feeling will last for forever. My soul is looking inside through windows, bells hanged outside tinkling softly. Miss Diana is leaning lazily on the sofa. The orange cat who acts meek is sitting on her shoulder. Frames of the fireplace are shining on her face, my frozen heart glimmering in the wind.