Thursday, May 14, 2009

Balthasar and me III

Me. Hi, little one!
Balthasar: Hi.
Me: There's a good lad.
Balthasar: I don't feel so good.
Me: I know, honey.
Balthasar: Is it because they snipped my balls off?
Me: No. Not anymore.
Balthasar: Is it because of the funny medicine you give me in the morning?
Me: No, that's a painkiller, it makes you feel better.
Balthasar: Then what's wrong with me?
Me: You skinned a toymouse...
Balthasar: Yes. It deserved it.
Me: ...and then ate the fur.
Balthasar: Yes.
Me. All of it.
Balthasar: It tasted nice.
Me: And now it's stuck in your tummy.
Balthasar: Oh.
Me: Yeah. So that's why I have to feed you medical kerosene, okay? To unstick the fur and make it come out.
Balthasar: Oh.
Me: Yeah. Sorry.
Balthasar: I don't like medical kerosene.
Me: I don't blame you, dear. But just think about the cool stuff you can do when this is over: Run around, eat food, play with my necklace, and with the little grey tennis ball, and...
Balthasar: Skin toymice?
Me: Uh, not so much anymore, no.
Balthasar (mumbling): They deserve it, though.
Me: They sure do.


Christina said...

Poor little Balthasar.

Heidi said...

I think you should have a blog dedicated exclusively to your conversations with Balthasar.

And those mice were totally asking for it.

Li:ne said...

I'm glad I don't have to wash myself with my own tongue. I'm also glad I don't have fur, and medical kerosene in my mouth. It doesn't look very fresh, little one.

tone almhjell said...

No, poor little pretty Balthus looks like he's been partying with Elvis and his brylcreem for days on end. We'll give him another shower, just have to wait until he's back to normal weight and gumption.