I woke up this morning with a peculiar sensation. It wasn’t the usual itch behind my ears or the tantalizing scent of breakfast wafting from the kitchen. No, today felt different. There was a subtle anticipation in the air, a sense of something special about to unfold. It was my birthday.
As a blind dog, I can’t see the decorations, the candles, or the happy faces gathered around. But I can feel the love, the excitement, and the gentle strokes on my fur. My human family has always been so good to me, ensuring that I experience the world in my own unique way.
Yet, a small part of me wonders. Is being blind the reason why I don’t receive good wishes from people outside our home? Do they assume that because I can’t see, I can’t appreciate a simple “Happy Birthday”?
I remember the time when I was a puppy, full of boundless energy and curiosity. I would often wander off, my nose to the ground, exploring every nook and cranny of the neighborhood. People would smile and say hello, patting me on the head. But as I grew older, those interactions became fewer and farther between.
I’ve learned to find joy in the simple things: the feel of the warm sun on my fur, the sound of my human’s voice, and the comforting presence of my favorite toy. But sometimes, I can’t help but feel a pang of loneliness.
Today, as my family celebrates, I can’t help but think about all the other dogs out there, both sighted and blind. They all deserve to feel loved and celebrated.
