Last week we welcomed a new member into our family. No, not THE new member…he’s still cooking.
The final reward on Basil’s “big boy sleeping chart” was a guinea pig. This was his choice of small pets we had talked about. Sooooo, last week he and Aaron brought one home.
Timothy is his name.
He lives in a cage by night and in one of those metal pet enclosure gate things on the grass most days.
It has been sweet to watch Timothy learn to love Basil’s jostling and hearty cuddling. Today I was sitting on the porch reading (re-reading The Order of the Phoenix) while Basil played with his buddy and Juliana dug in the planter. My indulgent page turning was interrupted.
Looking over, I saw Basil wagging his finger at Timothy.
“NO, Timothy. No scratching me.”
I thought it was cute until Basil poked him in the eye. “Basil, don’t poke his eye!” I said as I pulled myself out of the adorandak (terrible seating for late pregnancy, mind you). I had him come out of the fence to take a break and we talked about being a good pet owner, etc.
Part of our conversation included Basil’s reason for poking the poor rodent in the eyeball.
“I thought that was a good way to spanish him!”
“Spanish?” said I. Spanish….ok spanish, hmmm.
“I mean punish, I thought it was a good way to punish him!”
Sometimes it’s hard to keep back the laughter :)