Living With a Vet Tech

Living With a Vet Tech

Living with a vet tech is like living with the world’s weirdest CSI agent.

I walked into my kitchen this morning and there’s a microscope sitting next to the coffee maker.

Mariah has the biggest grin on her face staring into a Petri dish.

I ask, “Whatcha doing?”

She says, “Looking for worms.”

Just… casually. Before breakfast.

I don’t even ask follow-up questions anymore.

Normal couples argue about dishes.

We’re over here discussing parasite eggs while eating cereal.

If I ever disappear, don’t investigate the basement.

Check the microscope.


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Fall further down the hole

Six buckets of regret. Pick your poison.

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