I am Lila, a mother of six beautiful puppies. They are my world, my joy, and my reason to keep going. Yet, as I lie here on the cold, hard ground, watching them curl up against each other for warmth, my heart aches. My poor children haven’t even had a proper birthday celebration.
It wasn’t always like this. I used to live in a warm home with kind humans. They loved me, or so I thought. When I gave birth to my puppies, I believed they would share in my joy, that they would cherish my little ones as much as I did. But the day my puppies opened their eyes for the first time was the day everything changed.
The humans began to grow distant, annoyed by the tiny cries and the mess we made. They didn’t understand that my babies were just learning, just trying to find their place in the world. One day, they put us all in a box and drove us far away. I remember the car stopping abruptly and the box being placed on the side of the road. They didn’t even look back.
Since that day, every moment has been a struggle. I’ve done everything I can to protect my puppies. I’ve scavenged for food in trash bins, fought off other stray dogs to keep them safe, and found whatever shelter I could to shield them from the rain. But no matter how hard I try, it never feels like enough.
I wanted so much more for them. I wanted them to know the joy of running freely in a safe yard, of having full bellies and warm beds. Most of all, I wanted them to feel celebrated, to feel special—especially on their birthday. They deserved a cake made of treats, candles lit just for them, and humans clapping and laughing as they wagged their tiny tails.
Instead, their first birthday came and went like any other day. We were huddled under a bridge, sheltering from the cold wind. I tried to make it special by finding scraps of food—a crust of bread here, a leftover bone there. I nuzzled each of them, licking their faces and telling them how proud I was to be their mother. But deep down, I felt like I had failed them.
Sometimes, I catch them watching families with dogs, their little eyes filled with wonder and longing. They don’t say it, but I know they wonder why they can’t have that life too. It breaks me to see them like this, to know that I can’t give them the world they deserve.
But I refuse to give up hope. Each day, I pray that someone kind will notice us, that they’ll see beyond our dirty fur and tired eyes. I dream of the day someone reaches out a hand to us, a hand that doesn’t push us away but instead invites us into a home. A home where my puppies can finally have their first real birthday party, with treats and toys and laughter filling the air.
Until that day comes, I will keep fighting for them. I will keep finding food, keeping them warm, and reminding them that they are loved. Because even if the world hasn’t been kind to us, I want them to know that they are everything to me.
As I watch them sleep tonight, I whisper softly, “One day, my little ones. One day, you’ll have the celebration you deserve.” And in my heart, I hold on to the hope that somewhere, someone is waiting to love us, to give my puppies the life I’ve always dreamed of for them.
