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Luckily, the vet was right, and within two days I started to drink more and more, enough to keep me alive at least. My stomach ulcers cleared up quickly and I was able to drink all of my milk without too many problems.
 During the day, I slept in a nice woolen pouch in a haversack which was strung up in a strong box to keep me inside, in case I woke up during the day. Donna would wake at 6am in the mornings and would give me some nice warm wombat milk. After such a big feed, I would generally start to feel sleepy and was soon put back into my pouch to sleep for the day. Around 5 O'clock in the afternoon, I would get another feed of milk and a little play. My box was in the spare bedroom, so I would explore around the bed, sniffing and looking around. But I made sure that I never ventured too far away from my foster mum.
I soon discovered that I l-o-v-e-d to have my backside scratched and would often rub up against the wooden supports of the bed for a scratch. Shoelaces also became a favourite of mine as well, and I would chew and toss my head, trying to bite through them.
 Within a few more months, I was ready to start digging. Soil was placed in my box so that I could try and have a dig and a bit of a play. I still had my pouch, but at night, I used to come out and fossick in the dirt and try a bit of grass which was left for me to eat. So this was what being a real wombat was all about!
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