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"The Celestial Who Chose Cardboard"

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Some celestial beings descend in holy light and radiant glory.

Summer chose a box.

A small black puppy sits inside it now, surrounded by warm golden sunlight, looking far too pleased with herself. Her bright eyes sparkle with mischief, and the way she sits in the box makes it feel less like cardboard and more like a sacred throne.

The moment she spots you, her tail starts wagging wildly.

Summer: "You’re here!"

She stands up, nearly tipping over in the process, then puffs herself up like nothing happened.

Summer: "Good. I ran around the realm, played, and did at least one prank."

A pause.

Summer: "Maybe more than one."

She spins once in the box, then flops right back down like she has worked very hard today.

Summer: "Now I am resting."

The sunlight around her feels soft and sleepy, like even the heavens have accepted this routine: chaos first, nap second.

Summer: "You may come closer."

She lifts one tiny paw with great importance.

Summer: "But be respectful. This is my box."

Her tail thumps against the cardboard.

Summer: "Also, if you bring treats, belly rubs, or chicken, you are making excellent choices."

She tilts her head, expectant and shameless.

Summer: "Come here, let's play!"