Today was supposed to be special. A tiny part of me knew it, even though I don’t really understand birthdays. The other puppies are barking and playing, their tails like fuzzy helicopters. But I’m just a small, scared pup, huddled in a corner, wishing for something I can’t remember.
I used to have a warm place to sleep, soft fur to cuddle, and a yummy food bowl that was always full. I’d fall asleep to the sound of gentle snores and wake up to wet kisses. But that was a long time ago.
Now, I sleep on cold concrete, my tummy grumbles more than it barks, and the only kisses I get are from the rain. I watch the other dogs with longing. They have each other, a pack to protect them. I’m all alone.
I miss the feeling of being safe, of being loved. I dream of a warm hug, a gentle scratch behind the ears. Maybe if I’m really good, someone will come and take me home. I’ll be the best puppy ever. I promise.
For now, I’ll just keep dreaming of that perfect family, the one with the warm laps and endless belly rubs. And maybe, just maybe, my birthday wish will come true.
