I sit in the rain, waiting for someone to wish me a happy birthday, but perhaps no one cares about me. The drops fall relentlessly, cold and heavy against my fur, but I don’t move. I can’t bring myself to leave. This is the day that is supposed to be special, the day I was brought into this world. And yet, here I am, alone in the rain, hoping for just a little bit of love, just a few kind words.
I remember when I was younger, when birthdays meant something. I was part of a family then, or at least that’s what I thought. My tail would wag as I waited eagerly for the day to come, my little paws bouncing with excitement as I hoped there would be treats or a new toy, or even just a little extra attention from the people I loved. But those days feel so far away now. Those days feel like a different life, one that was taken from me without any warning.
Now, I have no one. I have no family, no home, no warmth. The world is a cold, unfeeling place. On my birthday, I don’t get to celebrate. I don’t get to experience the joy that every dog deserves. Instead, I sit here, alone in this forgotten corner of the world, waiting for a miracle that will never come.
The rain soaks into my fur, and my body shivers from the cold, but it’s not the weather that makes me feel empty. It’s the ache in my heart. The ache that I’ve felt for so long now. I’ve been abandoned, left behind by the people I once trusted. No one wanted me anymore. No one cares about me.
I remember the last time I saw them, my old family. They promised to take care of me, to love me forever. But promises are broken easily, especially when they are made by people who don’t really care. One day, they were there, and the next day, they were gone. They didn’t even say goodbye. They just left, and I was left with nothing but the empty space where their love used to be.
Now, my birthday comes, and all I can do is wait. Wait for someone to acknowledge me, to see me, to care for me. But no one does. The streets are silent, the world is indifferent. I wonder if anyone even remembers that I exist. I wonder if anyone will ever care enough to wish me a happy birthday, or even just to look into my eyes and see the sadness that resides there.
But the more I wait, the more I realize the truth: No one is coming. No one will save me. I have been forgotten. And as the rain falls harder, I curl up in a small, damp corner, my body exhausted from the days of loneliness and hunger. The world continues to turn, oblivious to the pain I feel.
Yet, even in the darkest of moments, there’s a small part of me that still holds onto hope. It’s faint, barely there, but it’s enough to keep me going. Maybe tomorrow will be different. Maybe someone will walk by and see me, truly see me, and realize that I am not just a stray, not just a dog forgotten by the world. I am someone who deserves love, who deserves kindness. Maybe, just maybe, someone will take me in and give me a home.
But for today, I sit in the rain, waiting. Waiting for something to change. Waiting for someone to remember me. Waiting for a birthday wish that will never come.
And though my heart is heavy with sorrow, I cannot stop hoping. Because that’s all I have left now. The hope that one day, someone will care.
