She is an 11-year-old shiba inu. We were shopping at the mall when I was 12 and we stopped by the pet store we usually stop by to play with the cute, sad puppies. That’s when we met her. We took her out of her cage and played with her for a bit and decided we should keep her. So my dad went through the adoption process and she came home with us. My mom, who had been doing her own thang that day, got a nice surprise when she got home. I decided to name her Angel because I thought it was the best name I could give her or any animal at the time. She ate everything. I never got mad because she was too cute but I had to pretend to be mad for training purposes. She attended puppy kindergarten but she was made into the “bad example.” She sucks at socializing to this day. In person form she would be that bitchy girl who’s too good for everyone and eats her own shit. Cold and gross. One time when she was a puppy she stumbled into the sleeping bags my siblings and I were lying in and cuddled with us. It was the cutest, most affectionate thing she would do for the rest of her life. She howled along with my clarinet practice when I was still cool enough to be in band. She worships food above all else. She used to run off and we would chase her around in our car and the neighbors would help us out. I missed her when I was at college, but she probably didn’t miss me. She pretends she’s happy when we come home, but who knows how she really feels. She uses me for my bed a lot of the nights. But I let her because she’s cute and lets me pet her while she drifts off to sleep. She’s one of the best things to have happened to the Fuchino family. If you don’t like her, you might not want to follow my posts, because I feel like she might be a frequent topic of future posts. And she also doesn’t like you so it’s all good.