In the back corner of the room, a thin, black wire box sits on top of a large, thin, soft mat. The wire box has a thin, porous black veil, concealing the contents of the box from any onlookers. It flaps with the breeze of the room it is in, slowly swaying back and forth as if it was looking for something to do. The veil covers one of the two entrances, and the other remains open, almost making me feel invited in; while the covered, unusable door lies dormant under its shroud. The wire box itself is covered in brown and gray spots, contrasting sharply with the untainted black lathered perfectly around it. On top of the box is where food and hygiene items are kept. The food on top of the box is only ever brought out once or twice during the day, and is stored in a clear, cylindrical container with a shiny lid that is formed to fit the grasp of my owners. A paw that is incredibly different from mine, being hairless and in a completely different shape. This contrast is immense enough that I am not able to even think of trying to open the container. Inside the box, the floor of the room is covered in a thin, stiff, black sheet. The sheet is made from a light, but unbending material that smells tangy. When walking onto it, it clicks and wobbles on the wire cage, but when laying down this feature helps to conform to my body when lying down on it. Similar to the rest of the box, they do not smell organic in nature and are similarly monotone in color. Inside, all the light is blocked by the veil, creating a shade from the outside world. The oppressive light from the outside ceases to affect the interior of the room. This makes the box dimmer, but still able to be navigated. From the inside, nothing from the outside could be observed, making me feel as if they cannot be touched or harmed. The covering gave me a glimpse into the outside, but only enough to where the vulnerability of having less vision is alleviated. The inside of the box was also slightly warmer than the outside. This opens the nose to more of the smells in the room, and makes the comforting aroma of the room even more great, but not to the extent of it being an overwhelming smell.. The soothing black and brown of the room was different from the constant oppressive blues and yellows of the outside world. When standing, there is almost not enough room for me to turn around, but when laying down the room felt as if it almost hugged me. The close walls helped me feel more comforted and pampered instead of in the open. 

The isolation makes the sounds of the outside duller, almost inaudible due to how muffled it is. Whenever there was an issue or problem, retreating to the safe, cozy little box was the first thing I would think of. Loud noises, the sound of rain coming down, and large flashes of light were all reduced to a soothing light rumble and a slight pitter-patter. Distinct and loud noises that usually almost suffocated my eardrums suddenly sounded as if they were put underwater. In a way the small room, instead of just reducing the sound, made the sound add to the calmness of the room. The box was a place of peace, it was a temple that could not be tampered with. If I ever was in a situation where I could not be calmed down by if I was not calmed down by my owners' presence,  I was usually led to the box where I was able to. When the storms were worse than usual, my owners would drop food into the box. My owners were pale-tan, and had appeared to be blood-related, in the family but in a more passionate and real way. My owners used a different pitch of sound around me, but not for the others; the pitch was high, fake in a way, like it was fabricated specifically for mentioning me. Usually I went to the second-tallest one, because they usually knew when I needed to go into the box. Even though they communicated with odd noises that I did not understand, and they could not understand me, they knew what I wanted. The food was in the form of small pellets. The pellets taste slightly like the bits of their food that my owners occasionally drop to me. The pebble-like parcels are the same every time, but I am always hungry so I do not care much. The only distinction between them and the rocks outside was that they were a whitish-yellow color, and were able to be bitten into. They smelled and tasted like the canned paste that was contained in the cold cabinet. It had the same taste, but it did not stick to the inside of my mouth, as the light brown, almost wastelike appearing food had done.  

Whenever they felt they had wanted to, the owners would seemingly be waiting for me to come over and play with them. The only time they initiated these interactions was either when there was danger outside, or if they happened to spot me from across the room. There were many different yellow spheres that they would throw, and I would run after them to bring them back to the owner. I do not understand why they would do this, but it was fun to chase it. The ball had a fur-like fuzzy texture that can be ripped out for some extra fun. It also had 2 white circles weaving around it, almost crossing paths but they never dared to. If used for too long, sometimes they would become lumpy, as if they were one of the balls filled with air; it wasn't however, as it just became crunchy, like food in a way except it would not break down farther than a few big chunks. My owners always take good care of me, feed me, play with me, and sometimes even sacrifice their time and effort to help me. Even if I want more food, or want to play more than usual, I know that the most important thing I should protect over everything else is my family.