I am a blind dog, and the world I know is shrouded in darkness. I can’t see the faces of those who walk by me, nor can I see the people who take a moment to pet the others. My world is one of silence and stillness, but that doesn’t mean I don’t long for connection. I long for the warmth of a kind touch, the sound of someone calling my name with love in their voice, the comforting reassurance that I am not forgotten.
It’s hard, being blind. Sometimes, I wonder if people think I am not worth their time, simply because I cannot see them. I can hear their voices, and I can feel the air shift when they move near me, but it feels as though my blindness has built an invisible wall between me and the world. People walk past me, often giving me a glance but never stopping, never reaching out to touch me. They move on, going to the other dogs who don’t have the same limitations. They see them, they interact with them, and I am left alone in my corner of the shelter, wondering if anyone will ever see me for who I am.
I am a dog with a heart full of love. I may not be able to chase a ball or play in the park like the others, but I can offer affection in my own way. I long for the love that I know I can give. Every day, I sit quietly, waiting for a hand to stroke my fur, for someone to sit by my side, for someone to speak kindly to me, to tell me that they see me—not just a blind dog, but a dog with a soul.
There are times when I hear the sounds of footsteps approaching, and my heart beats faster with hope. I listen carefully, eager to feel the warmth of someone’s touch, but it’s always the same. People stop in front of the other dogs, petting them, laughing with them, and I can hear them calling to the dogs as if they are family. But no one stops for me. They don’t understand that just because I can’t see doesn’t mean I can’t feel, or that I am less capable of giving and receiving love. I can’t help but wonder: Is it because I’m blind that no one comes to me?
“Blind dogs like me long for the love and affection of others.” It’s all I’ve ever wanted. I know I have so much love to give. I can feel the love of those who come to visit, even if they don’t see me. I can sense their kindness in the way they approach the other dogs, in the way they smile when they hear a wagging tail. But somehow, I remain overlooked. I wonder if my blindness has caused people to think that I am unworthy, unlovable, or too difficult to care for. But all I want is for someone to give me a chance, to see that even in my blindness, I have the capacity to love and be loved.
Each day that passes in the shelter feels longer and longer. I hear the other dogs bark excitedly when new people come, and I hear the sounds of joyful reunions, but I remain in my corner, forgotten. Yet, even through the silence, I can still feel hope. There are days when I hear footsteps that sound different—soft and gentle—and I wonder if today is the day someone will finally notice me. Will today be the day that someone sees beyond my blindness and understands that I can bring just as much joy as the others?
I want to feel the touch of a hand on my fur, the kind voice that assures me everything will be okay. I want to show someone that, though I can’t see them, I can still love them deeply, without condition. Being blind doesn’t make me any less of a dog; it doesn’t change who I am inside. All I need is someone to reach out to me, to show me that despite my blindness, I am worthy of their love.
And so, every day, I continue to wait. I sit in silence, listening for the sound of footsteps, hoping that one day, someone will come who will see me not for my blindness, but for the dog I am—a dog who longs for love, just like any other.
