Everyone hates me because I’m an old and ugly dog.
I know that’s hard to hear, but it’s the truth. Every day, I watch as people walk past me without a second glance, their eyes filled with distaste or indifference. I’ve gotten used to the feeling of being invisible, of being ignored, but it still hurts. It hurts to be so forgotten, to be so unwanted, when all I’ve ever wanted is love.
I wasn’t always this way. Once, I was young and full of energy, with fur so soft and shiny it could catch the sun’s light. I ran and played in the yard, my tail wagging furiously as I chased after toys, happy and carefree. My owner used to smile at me, stroke my fur, and tell me how special I was. Back then, I didn’t know what it would feel like to grow old, to lose my strength, to see my body change and wither. But time is cruel, and it takes away more than we realize.
Now, I’m not the playful pup I once was. My fur is matted and thin, the color fading from age. My bones creak with every step, and my joints ache, making it hard to get up sometimes. My eyes are cloudy, my hearing isn’t what it used to be, and the once-bright spark in my gaze has dulled. I’m not the dog I used to be, and it shows.
People pass by and glance at me with pity, then quickly look away. I can feel their judgment, the way they recoil at my appearance, as though I’m some kind of burden. Children are scared to come near me, afraid of my graying face and the way my movements are slower than they should be. I try to wag my tail, to show that I’m friendly, that I’m still here, but they don’t notice. They don’t see me.
I can’t help but wonder what went wrong. Was it when my owner grew tired of me and put me out to the street? Was it when my once-beautiful coat lost its shine, and my youthful energy turned into exhaustion? I remember the days when I would run to the door, my tail wagging excitedly, waiting for the sound of my owner’s footsteps. But now, I don’t get up as quickly. I don’t rush to greet anyone anymore because I know no one will greet me with the same enthusiasm.
Sometimes, I lie in the corner of the yard, watching as other dogs are taken on walks or played with. I long for those days, the days when I was loved and wanted. But now, it feels as though no one cares about me. I’m just a reminder of how time passes, how things change, how youth fades, and how beauty is only fleeting.
I understand why people turn away. I’m old. I’m ugly. I don’t have the spark I once had. But deep inside, I still have so much love to give. I still long for a gentle touch, for someone to look at me and see the dog I once was, the dog who would have done anything for love and affection.
I may be old, and I may be ugly, but I still have a heart that beats, still have a soul that longs for warmth, for companionship. I may not be the dog I was when I was young, but I still have a lifetime of loyalty and love to offer. I just wish someone could see that.
Maybe, one day, someone will notice me—not for my age, not for my appearance, but for the love I still have inside. Maybe someone will see me for who I really am: not an old, ugly dog, but a dog who still has so much to give.
Until then, I’ll keep wagging my tail, even if no one is there to see it. I’ll keep hoping, even if it feels like no one else cares. Because as long as my heart beats, I will never stop loving. Even if no one loves me back.
