Today is my 17th birthday, but I haven’t received any well wishes yet. It feels strange, sitting here in the corner of the room, looking out the window, watching the world move by as the day passes without much celebration. I used to look forward to this day with excitement, tail wagging in anticipation of treats, belly rubs, and extra attention. But now, it feels like just another day. A day where I wonder if anyone remembers.
I don’t really know how I got here—seventeen years have passed in what seems like the blink of an eye. My legs are not as spry as they once were, and my eyes don’t see as clearly as they did when I was a pup. My fur is no longer shiny and smooth like it used to be; it’s a bit more ragged now, with a few graying patches here and there. The world feels slower, quieter, and sometimes, I wonder if I’m invisible.
It hasn’t always been like this. I remember when I was a little puppy, just a ball of fur and boundless energy. I would run around the yard, chasing anything that moved, with my tail wagging non-stop. On my birthdays, there would always be something special—a new squeaky toy or a special treat, maybe even a birthday cake made just for me. My humans would smile as they sang to me, and I would wag my tail in excitement, feeling the love that filled the air. I could feel the warmth in my heart as everyone gathered around, all eyes on me. I was the center of their world on my special day.
But now, I feel like a shadow of that once energetic puppy. My joints ache, and I don’t have the same enthusiasm I once had. The kids who once ran and played with me have grown up and moved on to their own lives. Sometimes, they visit, but it’s not the same. They have their own families now, their own responsibilities. It seems that I’ve become just another part of the furniture, another thing that’s always been here, a little less important with each passing year. I’m still loved, I know that, but the world around me has changed.
Today, as I lie on my favorite rug, watching the sun cast its warm glow across the room, I can’t help but feel a pang of sadness. I haven’t heard a happy birthday wish, not a “Good boy!” or “Happy birthday, old friend!” It’s not that I expect a grand celebration, but a little acknowledgment would be nice. Maybe a treat, or at least a few extra belly rubs to remind me that I’m still special, even if I’m not as young as I used to be.
I’ve been loyal to my humans for all these years, through thick and thin. I’ve shared their joys and their sorrows, always there with a wag of my tail, offering comfort when they needed it most. I’ve watched them grow, and in some ways, I’ve grown with them. I’ve seen their children take their first steps, go off to school, and eventually move out on their own. And through it all, I’ve been here, waiting for them to come home, eager to greet them at the door, no matter how long they’ve been away.
But now, with everyone so busy, I feel a little forgotten. I know they still love me, I know they do, but sometimes I wonder if they truly realize how much I still need them. I’m not as playful as I once was, but I still crave their attention, their affection. A simple pat on the head or a kind word would mean the world to me. Today, on my 17th birthday, I just want to feel like I matter.
As I lie here, the house is quiet. I hear the sound of footsteps approaching, and my ears perk up. Maybe it’s them, coming to check on me, to give me a little birthday love. My tail wags softly in anticipation, even though I try to hold back my excitement. I’ve learned to be patient, but deep down, I still long for that connection.
And then, as if by magic, the door opens, and there they are—my humans, with smiles on their faces, kneeling down beside me. “Happy birthday, old friend,” one of them says, their voice gentle and full of warmth. “You’re still as special to us as ever.”
I can’t help but wag my tail, my heart swelling with joy. I may not have received well wishes from everyone today, but in this moment, surrounded by those I love, I realize that the day isn’t about the number of wishes or the treats I receive. It’s about the love that endures, no matter how many years have passed.
So, as I rest my tired head on their lap, I remind myself that even if the world has changed, my family is still here. And no matter how old or slow I get, I will always be their loyal companion, and they will always be mine. Today, my birthday may not be as grand as it once was, but it’s still filled with love—and that’s all that really matters.
