I am Nami.
I was born behind metal bars — not the cold kind in shelters, but the even colder kind that pretended to be “breeder kennels.” A 1x1 box, barely enough for our tails to wag. People said we were “purebred Shiba Inus,” like that was supposed to mean we were special. But no one came for us. Not for two winters, not for two springs. Just passing feet, quick glances, and then... nothing.
No grass. No toys. No names, even. Just us barking softly and pressing our noses against the metal hoping someone might look at us like we mattered.
They never did.
Until 2nd Chance Dogs came.
They gave us names.They gave us space to spin in circles and chase wind for the first time.
But most importantly, they gave us something we didn’t have in our bloodline, in our papers, or in that cramped cage: a second chance.