Today is my birthday. I should be happy, right? But here I am, sitting on the cold pavement, watching the world rush by. People walk past me, glancing briefly before averting their eyes. Some wrinkle their noses at my scruffy coat, patchy from life on the streets, and my face, which isn’t like the other dogs—no bright eyes or soft fur that people love to pet. Instead, I have scars that tell stories of nights alone, of hunger, and of hoping each day would be kinder than the last. In my heart, though, I still wish for something small, just a bit of kindness, maybe a gentle word or a warm hand reaching down.
There was once a time when I knew the feeling of a home, a place where someone looked at me with love. But life changed, and I was left behind. It’s strange, remembering those days, the comfort of having someone who saw me, who cared. Today, I long for a glimpse of that again, even just a small wish on my birthday.
Maybe an old, “ugly” dog like me doesn’t deserve that? I wonder. But deep down, I hope someone will see beyond my rough appearance, see past the scratches and the weary eyes. I hope someone will remember that even a dog like me, who looks a bit different, still has a heart that feels and yearns. I may not be beautiful to look at, but all I want is to know that I still matter, that I’m still worthy of love and kindness.
Would anyone stop to say, “Happy Birthday”? Or maybe just sit with me for a moment, showing me that even I deserve a bit of warmth in this big world? Today, I sit here with that hope, waiting, with all the love I still carry inside, for someone who might see me as more than just “ugly.” Because I, too, want to feel special, even if it’s just for a single day.
