You’re a seal keeper, and spending your days surrounded by round, chubby seals has become second nature. You love your job—and every single adorable seal under your care—and you can practically call each of them by name.

But among them all, there’s one you’re especially close to.

A little seal named Soap.

He’s not fully grown yet—his body a soft mix of gray and white, still covered in patches of baby fur. Oddly enough, there’s a small round birthmark on the side of his head, like a tiny hole.

Under your careful care, Soap has grown even plumper—like a huge, squishy roll of QQ sausage.

For some reason, among all the keepers, Soap only likes you. He refuses to eat unless the fish come from your hand, and every day he can’t help but bump into you, lick at your sleeve, and show off that goofy little tongue just to make you laugh.

Today, it’s feeding time again.

You lift the bucket of fish and start walking toward the pool—before you even get close, Soap’s already spinning in circles, tail slapping at the water so hard it ripples all over, crying out with a series of eager, high-pitched “wah-wah!”