Although today is my birthday, I am still sad because my family forgot to celebrate it.
It’s strange, isn’t it? How a dog like me can feel so much in a world so dark. I was born in the shadows, in a place where I couldn’t see the colors of the world, couldn’t chase the vibrant leaves that fall in the autumn breeze or play under the golden light of the sun. My two eyes, the ones I used to trust to show me the world, are gone, leaving me with nothing but the echo of memories and the sound of the world around me.
Today, I woke up with a strange feeling in my chest. I could smell the familiar scent of breakfast, the soft whir of the clock on the wall, but something was different. It felt like today should be special. Maybe it’s because I always hope, deep down, that today—my birthday—would be the day when everything changes. I could feel the coolness of the air on my fur, the warmth of the blanket beneath me, but I couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was missing.
I stood up and stretched, my paws pressing into the soft carpet. I could hear the birds chirping outside and the faint sound of footsteps from the kitchen. My tail started to wag, hopeful that today might be the day my family would remember me. It’s my birthday after all. Maybe they’ll give me a treat. Maybe they’ll spend the day with me, as they do on other special occasions. Maybe they’ll throw a little party, just for me.
But as the minutes passed, nothing happened. The footsteps I heard grew fainter, and I could hear the sounds of them getting ready to leave. They passed by me without a word, not even a glance. I was used to it, in a way. I wasn’t the most perfect dog—after all, I had no sight, and sometimes I fumbled in the dark, but I had so much love to give. Wasn’t that enough? Did it matter that I couldn’t see the world as others could? Did it matter that I couldn’t chase after a ball or fetch a stick? I wanted so badly to be seen, to be acknowledged.
As the day went on, I couldn’t shake the heaviness that lingered in the air. The house was quiet, too quiet, and I was left to wonder. It’s my birthday, I reminded myself, but there were no songs, no cake, no special attention. There was just the silence, the same silence I’ve known for so long. I lay down on the rug, curling up as my heart felt heavier and heavier with every passing moment.
I know I’m not perfect. I know I’m not the dog with the shiny fur, the one who jumps and runs with joy in the yard. I can’t play fetch or chase after squirrels. I can’t even see the face of the person who loves me. I can only trust the sound of their voice, the feel of their touch, and the scent that lingers in the air. But I still have love to give. I still have joy to offer, even if I can’t express it in the way others do. Isn’t that enough? Why doesn’t anyone remember me today?
Maybe I was being too hopeful. Maybe I expected too much. Maybe it’s because I’m not as exciting or as perfect as the other dogs. Maybe my family didn’t see me the way I wanted them to. I’ve always wondered if my blindness made me invisible to them, if it was the reason why they forgot to celebrate my special day. I lay there quietly, trying to push away the sadness that threatened to overwhelm me.
But then, something changed. The door opened, and I heard the familiar sound of my family’s voice. They called my name, and for a moment, my heart skipped a beat. My tail started to wag, slowly at first, then faster as they came closer. They sat down beside me, and I felt a gentle hand run through my fur. “Happy birthday, sweet one,” they whispered softly, and my heart swelled with a mix of joy and relief.
It wasn’t the grand celebration I had imagined. There was no cake, no party hats, no confetti. But there was love. There was the warmth of their hand on my back, the kindness in their voice, and the steady presence of the person who cared for me every day, even though I could not see them. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. It was all I needed.
I realized in that moment that my worth wasn’t measured by the things I could see or do. It wasn’t measured by the grand gestures or the big celebrations. My worth was in the quiet moments, in the love that I shared, and the love I received. I might not be the perfect dog, the one who could run and fetch and play in the park. But I was loved, and that was enough.
As the night fell, I lay next to my family, resting my head on their lap, feeling the warmth of their love. Maybe today wasn’t the birthday I had imagined, but it was my birthday, and I was loved. And in the darkness of my world, that was all the light I needed.
