The morning sun rises slowly, casting a golden glow over the filthy piles of garbage that have become my home. The stench is strong, but I have long since stopped noticing it. My body is thin, my fur tangled and dirty, but I have something far more important to protect—my puppies.
Today is my birthday.
But no one has taken the time to wish me a happy birthday.
I wonder if anyone even knows. Do they see me? Do they see a mother struggling to keep her babies safe in a world that has forgotten us? Or am I just another stray dog, another shadow in the corners of a city that moves too fast to care?
I curl my body around my puppies, shielding them from the cold morning air. Their tiny bodies press against me, seeking warmth and comfort, their soft whimpers reminding me of the weight of my responsibility. I lick their little faces, my heart aching with both love and sadness. I wish I could give them more. I wish I could give them a home.
But today, we are still here—wandering the garbage dump, searching for scraps of food that others have thrown away. Today, my babies will nurse from me, not knowing that their mother is growing weaker each day. Today, I will walk the streets with tired paws, hoping that maybe, just maybe, someone will stop and offer us kindness.
I don’t ask for much. Just a safe place. Just a warm hand. Just a kind word.
But as the day passes, no one stops. No one looks. No one cares.
And so, my birthday comes and goes like any other day. I keep my babies close, whispering silent promises to them, promises that I hope I can keep.
Maybe one day, someone will see us. Maybe one day, we won’t have to fight for survival. Maybe one day, my puppies will have the life I never had.
But today, I can only hold them tighter and hope.
