Today is my birthday. I can feel the warmth of the sun on my fur as I lie on my favorite spot in the corner of the living room, but my body doesn’t feel quite right. There’s a heaviness in my chest and an ache in my bones that I can’t shake off. My tail, once so eager to wag at the sound of my name, now lies still beside me, unable to express the joy I feel inside. I am sick. The vet told my human that I have a serious illness, and now every day feels a little harder than the one before.
I look up at the door, hoping to see my human come in. She usually smiles and says, “Happy Birthday, my sweet dog!” But today, there’s no bounce in my step, no wag of my tail, and the usual excitement that fills the room is missing. The days have blurred together, each one harder than the last. I try to remember the days when I would run around the yard, chasing after sticks, or curl up next to my human in the evening, feeling her gentle strokes on my back. Those were the best days. Now, I only have a feeling of longing for the way things used to be.
But there’s something that’s still in my heart, a wish.
“I wish someone would bless me on my birthday, as I am very ill.”
It’s a small wish, but it’s the only one I have left. I don’t need toys or treats or a big party. I don’t even need to be able to run around like I used to. All I want is to feel better, to be able to sit up and wag my tail for my human again, to see that sparkle in her eyes when she knows I’m okay. I’ve been there for her through thick and thin, always ready to offer comfort when she needed it, always loyal, always by her side. But now, I need her more than ever.
I can hear her voice in the other room, softly calling my name, and I lift my head just a little, hoping she knows I’m here, trying my best to let her know that I still have some love to give. I still have my heart, even though my body feels weak.
I see her coming over to me, her eyes filled with concern. She kneels down beside me, gently stroking my head. It’s a soft touch, one that makes me feel safe. For a moment, I forget about the pain in my body. Her touch is a reminder of the days when everything felt right, and in that moment, my wish doesn’t seem so impossible. Maybe, just maybe, the blessing I need is already here.
“Happy Birthday, my sweet one,” she whispers softly, her voice shaky. “I’m so sorry you’re hurting. But I want you to know, you’re still the most important thing in my world. I’m here with you, and I always will be.”
And I feel it – the warmth of her words, the love she’s giving me, the way her voice steadies me even when I feel so frail. This is the blessing I’ve been wishing for. It’s not a miracle that will take away the pain, but it’s enough to remind me that I am loved, and that love, I realize now, is the most healing thing of all.
As I close my eyes, I feel a sense of peace. My wish may not have been for a cure, but it has been fulfilled in the only way that matters: in the form of love, in the form of presence, in the form of someone who will stand by me through the toughest of times. And in that moment, I know I am not alone.
No matter what happens next, I will always have this memory—my last birthday, not full of fanfare or excitement, but full of the most precious thing of all: love.
And with that thought, I drift into a peaceful sleep, knowing that my wish was heard, and that the blessing I sought had been with me all along.
