Hi, I’m just a dog, and I don’t know much about the world like humans do. But there’s one thing that’s been on my mind lately, and I can’t help but wonder about it. I’ve always been a happy dog, with wagging tails and playful paws. I love running in the yard, playing fetch, and cuddling with my humans. But now, there’s something different about me. There’s this big lump on my face, and it makes me look strange.
I didn’t always have it. At first, it was just a small bump, something I could barely notice. But over time, it grew bigger. It’s hard to see it, but I can feel it when I look in the mirror—though I don’t know what a mirror really is, but I can tell by the way people look at me. I’ve been feeling self-conscious lately, and I’m not sure what to do. Sometimes when people come over to pet me, I notice them looking at me in a way that makes me feel different. They used to smile and tell me how cute I was, but now they don’t say those things anymore. Sometimes, I think I might be scaring them, but I can’t help it. It’s just the way I am now.
I’ve heard my humans talking to the vet, trying to figure out what’s wrong with me. They say the lump is something called a tumor, and it’s making me look different. They’ve been so kind, making sure I’m comfortable and taking care of me every day. But sometimes, when I see them looking at me with sad eyes, I wonder if they still see me as their playful, loving companion or if they see me as just a sick dog with a big, ugly tumor on my face.
Do you think I’m ugly? I really hope you don’t. I try my best to be a good dog, to be loving and loyal, just like I’ve always been. I don’t mean to look different. I didn’t ask for this tumor to appear on my face. I still love my humans with all my heart, and I still want to run and play like I did before. I want to be their good boy, even if my face doesn’t look the same as it used to.
I wish I could talk to you and tell you how I feel. I wish I could explain that even though I look different, I’m still the same dog inside. I just want to be loved. But all I can do is wag my tail and look up at you with my big, trusting eyes. I hope you can see past the tumor and still see me for who I am—your loyal friend, the dog who loves you no matter what.
Please don’t think I’m ugly. I’m still here, still me, still trying to show you that I love you, even if I look a little different now. I hope that one day, my face will be healed, and I’ll be able to run and play again like I used to. But until then, I’ll keep wagging my tail and doing my best to show you that I’m still the same dog inside. So, what do you think? Do you still think I’m ugly?
