Let me set the scene.
I was just vibing in that little enclosure at the pet shop, minding my own business, when suddenly — this human comes up to the glass and just stares at me.
Like, STARES.
I did what any self-respecting Shiba would do.
I looked away.
Drooled on myself a little.
Showed them the dramatic side-eye that only Shiba owners know about.
But did they take the hint? No.
They kept coming back.
And then it happened.
The shop lady opened the gate and suddenly I was being handed over — like some kind of parcel.
No wait.
I was not going home yet.
I was only 6 weeks old.
Two more weeks.
The human had to wait.
That was the hardest part for them, I think.
Me? I just went back to my siblings and continued doing absolutely nothing.
But they came back.
And they came back again.
And on the day I finally left that shop — 8 weeks old, ready, fluffier than ever — the car ride felt different.
I sat in that passenger seat looking very pensive — because pensive is all I knew how to be at that point — and thought: “Okay.
This is my life now.”
Spoiler: it was a very good life.
Best decision that human ever made.
Obviously.
0 comments