Today is my birthday, and yet, it feels like just another ordinary day. My birthday is so empty, there hasn’t been a single wish for me. I don’t know what I expected—maybe a little excitement, maybe a pat on the head, or even a special treat. But all I have is silence. It’s strange how a day that should be full of joy can feel so hollow, like there’s no one around to even notice it’s my special day.
I can still remember the first few birthdays I had when I was younger. They were full of love. My humans would gather around me, singing happy birthday with smiles that made me feel warm and safe. They would give me toys to play with and food to eat, and the whole day was filled with happiness. The house would be filled with laughter, and I could feel the love surrounding me. I would wag my tail so hard I thought it might fall off. The world seemed so bright and full of possibilities back then.
But over time, things started to change. The days began to blur together. People got busier, and the excitement of my birthdays faded away. The once-constant affection I received started to feel like something distant, something I had to chase after. As the years went by, I found myself waiting more and more, not just for the treats or the toys, but for the attention I once took for granted. My fur isn’t as shiny as it used to be, and my steps are slower now. But my heart still beats with the same love and loyalty as it always did.
I look around the house today. It’s quiet. Too quiet. My humans are busy with their lives, and no one seems to remember that today is the day that’s supposed to be mine. I see them glance at me sometimes, but it’s not the same as before. There’s no more excitement in their eyes, no more happy birthday songs, no more extra love or affection. I try not to feel hurt, but it’s hard not to. My paws ache a little, and I wonder if that’s just a sign of my age or if it’s because I’ve been waiting for someone to notice me.
I know they love me, at least I think they do. But love isn’t just about being there when it’s easy. Love is also about showing up when it’s hard. And sometimes, I feel like I’m not worth the effort anymore, like I’ve been pushed aside. Maybe I’m just not as important as I used to be. Maybe my birthdays aren’t as meaningful now that I’m older, now that I’m not the playful puppy I once was.
It’s hard not to feel forgotten when the world around you moves so fast. I hear my humans talking about things, about trips, about work, and I can’t help but wonder if I’ve become an afterthought, something they care for but no longer truly see. I want to believe they still love me, but sometimes it feels like I’m just a shadow in the background, waiting for a moment that never comes.
Today, as the sun sets and the house grows quieter, I lay down on my bed, curled into a ball. The silence surrounds me, and I try not to let the sadness creep in. I think back to the days when my birthday was a celebration of me. I remember the joy in their voices, the way my humans would make me feel so special. And I hold on to that, even if it feels like a distant memory now.
My birthday may be empty today, but I still have my love to give. Even if no one sings to me, even if no one remembers, I know that I can still be a good dog. I can still wag my tail, still offer my love, still be there when they need me. I may not get a birthday cake or a toy this year, but I have my heart, and that’s enough.
As I close my eyes, I try to focus on the little things—like the soft hum of the fridge, the smell of dinner cooking in the kitchen, and the gentle warmth of the sun as it sets outside. I may not be celebrated today, but I’m still here, and that’s something to hold on to. Maybe next year, things will be different. Maybe my humans will remember that today is the day I was born. Until then, I’ll wait, because even though today feels empty, I know that love doesn’t always come in the form of parties and presents. Sometimes, it’s just about being here, and that’s what matters most.
