Today is my birthday. I should be happy, shouldn’t I? The air is filled with the soft scent of flowers from the garden, the warm sun rests gently on my fur, and my human, Sophie, has been by my side all day, her hand never leaving my head. But deep inside, I feel a weight—a quiet understanding that this might be my last birthday.
I’ve been sick for a while now. It started with small things—getting tired after short walks, a loss of appetite, and an ache in my joints. Sophie thought I was just getting older. “It’s natural,” she’d say with a soft smile, scratching behind my ears. But then came the bad days—days when I couldn’t get out of bed, when the world spun even though I was lying still.
The vet confirmed what I think we both already knew but didn’t want to hear. “He doesn’t have much time left,” the vet had said, her voice gentle yet firm. Sophie held me tighter that day, her tears soaking into my fur. I didn’t understand all the words, but I understood the sadness in her eyes.
And now, here we are, on my birthday. Sophie has done everything to make it special. She baked a small cake, though I could only nibble at the soft bits. She brought out my favorite blanket, the one I’ve had since I was a puppy. We sat together in the garden, where I used to chase butterflies, back when my legs were strong and my heart full of endless energy.
She whispered stories to me—about the day she brought me home, the times we played fetch until the stars came out, and the nights I would cuddle by her side when she was sad. “You’ve been my best friend, my everything,” she said, her voice breaking.
I wanted to tell her that she’s been everything to me, too. That her love has been my greatest gift, better than any treat or toy. I wanted to tell her not to cry, that even though my body is failing, my heart is full because of her. But all I could do was lean my head against her and let out a soft sigh.
As the sun began to set, Sophie lit a candle on the cake and sang softly. Her voice trembled, but she smiled through her tears. I closed my eyes and listened, trying to capture every note, every moment, as if I could hold onto them forever.
“Happy birthday, my sweet boy,” she said, pressing her forehead to mine. I wagged my tail weakly, wanting her to know that, despite everything, I’m happy to be here with her.
But in the quiet of the night, as Sophie lay beside me, her hand still resting on my fur, I couldn’t help but wonder. Will I be here next year? Will I see another spring, another sunset, another moment like this? I don’t know. And that uncertainty scares me.
What I do know is that, today, I’m loved. And that love has made my life beautiful, no matter how long or short it may be. If this is my last birthday, then I want Sophie to remember it not as a day of sadness, but as a celebration of the bond we’ve shared.
As the stars began to twinkle above, I let out a contented breath. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, but I know I’ll carry her love with me, always.
