My name is Felix, and I’ve lived behind these metal bars for as long as I can remember. Six years ago, I was rescued from a fire in an old apartment building, and for a brief moment, I thought my life would be different, brighter. But instead, I was brought here—to this shelter. It’s safe, and the people here take care of me, but it’s not a home. Not the warm, loving place I had imagined.
Day after day, I watch the faces of people as they walk by my cage. Some stop and look at me, some even smile, but they always keep moving. I try to understand why they never choose me. I’ve heard the other volunteers say that I’m too “big,” or maybe that I’m “too old” now, but none of that makes sense to me. I have so much love to give; I just need someone who sees that in me.
Every night, as the shelter falls silent, I lie down on my small bed and close my eyes. I dream of a family who would keep me warm, a place where I wouldn’t have to hear the echoing barks of other dogs longing for homes like I do. In my dreams, I imagine someone calling my name, ruffling my fur, and telling me, “You’re home, Felix.” I don’t know what that really feels like, but the idea fills my heart with warmth.
There was a day, a few years ago, when I thought my dream had finally come true. A kind lady spent hours with me, petting me and talking to me softly. She looked at me with eyes that seemed to understand my lonely heart. She even promised to come back the next day. I stayed up that night, barely able to sleep, my heart beating faster with hope. But the next day came and went, and she never returned. I tried not to let my spirit sink, but hope can be such a heavy thing to carry when you’re alone.
Sometimes, the puppies in the shelter find homes faster, and I see them leave, tails wagging, full of excitement. I’m happy for them, but each time one leaves, I wonder why I’m still here, left behind, forgotten. I don’t know if it’s fair to say, but I sometimes feel like I’ve been waiting my whole life for someone to come and see beyond these walls, beyond this cage, beyond my age.
On special days like my birthday, the volunteers come to my kennel with treats and toys, which brings a little spark to my days. They even put a small hat on my head and sing to me, and I wag my tail to show my gratitude. But when the celebration is over, and they walk away, a quiet sadness fills me again. They don’t see the emptiness that settles in my heart afterward, that longing to have someone who would take me home and never leave me alone again.
I try to hold onto the idea of a forever home, even though the days pass, and it feels farther away each time. The hope inside me is fading, but there’s a small part of me that won’t let it go entirely. I keep dreaming of that day when someone will see me, truly see me, and take me in their arms, telling me that I’ll never have to wait again.
Until then, I’ll keep dreaming. My life may be confined to these four walls, but in my heart, I carry the dream of a forever home that I hope someday will come true.
