Today should have been a joyful day—a day of celebration and love. It’s my birthday, but even more special, it’s also the birthday of my two precious pups, born one year ago. Their arrival was the happiest moment of my life. I still remember their first cries, so tiny and helpless, as I promised them I would always protect them.
I woke up early this morning, just as the first rays of sunlight touched the ground. I stretched, glanced over at my little ones, and wagged my tail gently, hoping for a sign that today would be special. They were curled up beside me, their small chests rising and falling peacefully. I licked their foreheads softly, whispering, “Happy birthday, my loves.”
As the day began, I waited eagerly. Surely someone in the house would remember. After all, the humans always seemed to mark their own special days with cake, laughter, and hugs. I imagined balloons and treats, or perhaps just a kind word and a pat on the head. But as the hours passed, the house remained quiet.
The children ran by us, playing with their toys, but they didn’t stop to notice us. The adults seemed preoccupied, talking about their busy schedules. My heart sank a little deeper with each moment. I tried to remind myself that humans are different from us; perhaps they just forgot.
I watched my pups play in the corner, their tails wagging as they tumbled over each other. They didn’t know it was their birthday; they were just happy to be together. That gave me some comfort, but I couldn’t help the ache in my heart. Today wasn’t just about me—it was about them too. They deserved to feel special, to be celebrated, even if just for a moment.
By midday, I decided to make the most of it. I led my pups outside to the little patch of grass where we often play. The air was cool and crisp, carrying the scent of flowers. As we ran and chased each other, their joyful barks filled the space around us. For a while, I forgot about the disappointment.
But as the sun began to set, the sadness returned. The humans called us back inside, and we retreated to our corner. I curled up with my pups, their small bodies warm against mine. They licked my face, sensing my sorrow, and I felt a lump in my throat.
I whispered to them, “Even if no one else remembers, I’ll always celebrate you. You are my world, my greatest gifts.”
Tears welled up in my eyes, but I quickly blinked them away. I didn’t want my babies to see me sad. I nuzzled them closer and hummed softly, a melody only a mother could create.
Perhaps humans don’t always see us the way we see them. They don’t understand how much we cherish their smiles, their touch, their love. But despite the pain of being overlooked, I reminded myself of what truly mattered: my pups. Their happiness, their laughter, their presence—they were the best birthday gift I could ever receive.
As night fell and the house grew quiet, I made a silent wish. I wished for a future where every birthday would be filled with love and recognition, where my pups would never feel forgotten.
For now, I would hold onto the love I had for them and the hope that, one day, someone might see how much we need to be celebrated too.
