I open my eyes to the soft morning light filtering through the cracks in the old wooden fence. A gentle breeze rustles the dry leaves scattered on the ground. Today feels different, yet the world around me remains the same. Today is my birthday.
I stretch my legs and wag my tail weakly, hopeful for something special. Perhaps my human will greet me with warm hugs, or maybe a delicious treat will appear in my bowl. But as I lift my head, I see nothing but silence. The yard is empty, the house quiet.
I try to remind myself that it is just another day, but deep inside, I long for a moment of recognition, a kind voice, a loving touch. I was not always alone. I remember when I was just a small pup, full of energy, and my human would carry me in his arms, calling me his “little joy.” Back then, birthdays were filled with laughter and play. My human would bring me new toys and let me sleep next to him on the soft couch. But time changed everything.
As I grew older, I became less important. My human had new priorities, new distractions. My once cozy bed in the house was replaced with a hard corner in the backyard. The warmth I once knew faded into the cold reality of being forgotten. I still greet him every morning with a wagging tail, but now, he barely glances at me before rushing off.
I pad over to my empty food bowl and sniff around, hoping for a surprise. Nothing. My heart sinks. Maybe if I bark, if I whimper, he will remember. But no one comes. I lower my head and walk toward my favorite spot under the big oak tree. The shadows provide comfort, but they cannot fill the emptiness inside me.
I sit there, watching the world go by. A family passes on the other side of the fence, their child laughing as she clutches a stuffed animal. I wonder what it feels like to be loved like that again. To be held, to be cherished.
The sun begins to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. My body is tired, but my heart aches more. I close my eyes and whisper to myself, “Happy birthday.” Even if no one remembers, I will remember. Even if I am invisible to the world, my birthday still matters.
As the stars begin to twinkle above, I curl up and let out a sigh. Maybe next year will be different. Maybe one day, someone will look at me the way they once did—with love. Until then, I will keep waiting, hoping that someday, someone will remember me again.
