Today is my birthday. I know it’s supposed to be a happy day, full of wagging tails, treats, and belly rubs, but somehow, I can’t shake the feeling that no one really notices. The world around me seems brighter, filled with the laughter and joy of other dogs, but I… I don’t feel like I belong. My reflection in the glass window shows a dog with a crooked mouth, teeth jutting out awkwardly, and fur that’s a bit too rough, not the fluffy, perfectly groomed kind.
When people see me, they often smile—at first. But then, after a quick glance, they look away, as though something about me isn’t quite right. Maybe it’s the way my mouth twists, or how my teeth always seem to be a little too eager to show themselves. I never asked for this face, but this is the one I have. This is the face I wear every day, and it’s the face I hope someone will love, even if it’s not perfect.
You see, I never had the best start in life. I was born on the streets, wandering from one cold corner to another. No one really cared for me then, but I learned to survive. I learned to make do with what I had—often finding scraps of food or cuddling up with other strays for warmth. But my journey has been lonely. The other dogs would get adopted, their beautiful coats and symmetrical faces drawing attention, while I remained behind. I always felt like I was too different, too “ugly” to ever catch anyone’s eye. I couldn’t compete with the cuteness of the fluffy puppies with bright, sparkling eyes and perfect snouts. I was just… me.
But today, on my birthday, I can’t help but wonder if anyone could see beyond the strange angles of my face, the misalignment of my mouth, and the odd way my teeth seem to stick out. Could someone love me for who I am, the way I am? Could someone look at me and see more than just the physical differences? Could I find a place in this world where I’m not just the “ugly dog” but the special one?
When I was younger, I used to dream of the day someone would see me and say, “You’re not just a dog with a crooked smile. You’re my dog.” But I’ve come to realize that the world doesn’t always work that way. So many of us dogs get judged based on what we look like, and it’s hard to believe that anyone would choose a dog like me. Not when there are so many other dogs out there with perfect little faces, soft ears, and tails that wag with grace.
But today, I don’t want to feel sorry for myself. Today, I want to believe that maybe, just maybe, there’s someone out there who will see me and think, “You’re just the right dog for me.” Sure, my smile may not be perfectly straight, and yes, my teeth are probably a little too obvious, but I have something special too. I have a heart that’s full of love, a tail that wags with joy no matter what, and a spirit that refuses to give up—even when it feels like I’m invisible.
Today, as I sit here, looking up at the humans around me, I wonder if anyone will remember it’s my birthday. Will they give me a treat, a gentle pet, or even just a few kind words? Or will they pass by, thinking I’m too old, too awkward, or just not worth the attention?
But there’s one thing I know for sure: even if no one else notices, I will still celebrate myself today. Because I’m here, I’m breathing, and I’m still wagging my tail. I may not be the prettiest dog in the room, but I’m doing my best, and that’s all I can ever ask for.
So, I ask you, do you have any wishes for a dog as ugly as me? I don’t need anything grand. I don’t need the perfect birthday cake or the endless parade of toys. All I want is to be loved, even just for a moment. To be seen for who I am, not for what I look like. And if you can see that, if you can see the good in me, then that’s all I’ll ever need.
Happy birthday to me. Here’s hoping someone, somewhere, will give me the chance to prove that I’m more than just my crooked smile.
