It was like I was suddenly sucked into a time warp.
You see, years ago when my kids were little, and I was able to escape work, kids, husband, cleaning, laundry, etc... for even a couple of hours, I was always punished with 'bad reports'. So much so that it severely discouraged any kind of desire to do anything without a kid or a husband strapped to my side.
My stomach sank lower than I thought it could (even with Diesel fumes) as Vet Tech Girl unleashed a litany of complaints about Wilbur and as far as she was concerned we couldn't take him off her hands fast enough.
He pooped every two hours.
He pooped on the floor.He pooped in Duncan's crate.
He pooped everywhere but where he was supposed to.
Duncan got so sick of his poopy crate that he finally growled at Wilbur.
I spent the remainder of the bus ride in agony.
When we finally got to the apartment I looked up and saw this scene peeking from Vet Tech Girl's apartment.