Today is a day that should be filled with excitement, joy, and love. But for me, it’s just another quiet day at the shelter. My name is Fred, and today is my 7th birthday. Not that anyone knows. I’m just another dog in a long row of kennels, waiting, hoping, and dreaming that someone will notice me. But today, like many days before, I feel forgotten.
I wasn’t always here. I used to have a home, a family. I remember the warmth of my bed, the sound of my owner’s voice, and the feeling of belonging. There was a time when birthdays were special—treats, pats on the head, and even a toy or two. I used to think I’d have those moments forever. But things change, and one day, I was brought to the shelter. My owner left me here, and they never came back.
I don’t know why. Maybe I wasn’t good enough, maybe they couldn’t take care of me anymore. All I know is that one day I had a home, and the next, I didn’t. It’s been months now, and every day feels the same—long, lonely, and filled with the sounds of other dogs barking, longing for a home just like I do.
Today is supposed to be different, though. It’s my birthday, my 7th, but no one knows that. No one here knows the life I had before, or that today should be a celebration. As the hours pass, I watch people come and go, walking by my kennel, barely giving me a second glance. I press my nose to the bars, hoping for a little attention, a smile, anything. But they keep walking, and I’m left in the quiet.
I try to remind myself that it’s just another day, but deep down, I wish for more. I wish for someone to walk through those doors and look at me like I’m special, like I matter. I wish they would say, “Happy Birthday, Fred,” and maybe give me a little treat, or even just a kind pat on the head. But instead, I sit here, alone with my thoughts.
The shelter workers are kind, they feed me and make sure I’m taken care of, but it’s not the same as having a family of my own. I miss the days when I had a place in the world, when I was loved. And on days like today, it’s hard not to feel the weight of that loss.
As the sun sets, and the shelter grows quieter, I close my eyes and try to imagine that somewhere out there, someone is thinking of me. Maybe they don’t know it’s my birthday, but maybe, just maybe, they’re looking for a dog like me. A dog who’s a little older, a little wiser, but still has so much love to give.
I may be 7 years old today, but I still have so many dreams left. I dream of a warm bed, a yard to run in, and a family who will love me just as I am. I dream of belly rubs, long walks, and lazy afternoons spent by someone’s side. I dream of hearing the wo
For now, though, I wait. I’ll keep waiting, because I know that someday, someone will walk through those doors and see me not as just another dog in a shelter, but as the loyal, loving friend I’ve always been. And maybe, if I’m lucky, next year I won’t have to spend my birthday
Until then, I’ll hold onto hope. Because even on the loneliest of birthdays, hope is all I have.
