Today is my birthday, but I’m stuck here with no food; As a poor dog, no one loves or celebrates me

I don’t know what I expected when I woke up this morning. Maybe, just maybe, someone would remember. A small treat, a pat on the head, or at least a smile. But the truth is, like so many other days, today is just another day. The world continues spinning, people continue rushing past me, and here I am, a lonely dog, unnoticed and unloved, sitting in this corner. The hunger in my belly is a familiar sensation, and the feeling of being forgotten has become my companion.

It’s strange, isn’t it? Today is my birthday. I’m not sure how I know that, but I do. Somewhere deep inside, I feel it. There’s an odd tingle in my paws, a yearning for something special. Perhaps in another life, birthdays meant something—a time of joy, celebration, and affection. Maybe, once upon a time, I had a home. I try to remember, but it’s all a blur. All I know now is this: I’m alone.

The cold ground beneath me reminds me of how long it has been since I’ve felt the warmth of a bed or the softness of a blanket. I watch the humans passing by. They seem so busy, so absorbed in their lives. Not one of them looks down at me, and if they do, it’s with indifference. Occasionally, I catch a glimpse of sympathy in someone’s eyes, but it’s fleeting. A quick glance, a sigh, and then they’re gone, back to their world of endless motion. I’m just a part of the background, something easily overlooked.

There’s a bakery across the street. The smell of freshly baked bread wafts through the air, making my stomach growl louder. I can almost taste it. My mouth waters as I imagine sinking my teeth into a soft roll, the buttery texture melting on my tongue. But the reality is that I’ll have to wait, as I always do, for scraps—if I’m lucky. Maybe someone will toss me a piece of their sandwich, or perhaps I’ll find something discarded in the trash. It’s not glamorous, but it’s my reality. I’ve learned not to expect much.

It’s funny how I’ve come to terms with being invisible. There was a time when it hurt more—when the loneliness was unbearable. I used to chase after people, wagging my tail, hoping for a kind word or a gentle touch. I would bark, trying to get their attention. But over time, I realized it was pointless. No one stopped. No one cared. The world is too big, and I’m too small. So now, I sit quietly, watching, waiting, hoping—but with little expectation.

I wonder what it’s like to be loved. I see other dogs with their owners, tails wagging, eyes full of joy. They look so happy, so content. They have homes, beds, toys, and food whenever they want it. They don’t have to worry about where their next meal is coming from or whether they’ll find shelter when it rains. I wonder if they know how lucky they are. Do they ever think about dogs like me? Probably not. Their lives are filled with warmth and affection, and mine is filled with cold and hunger.

I try not to be bitter. It’s hard, though. On days like today, when it feels like the world has forgotten me, it’s difficult not to feel a pang of resentment. I didn’t ask for this life. I didn’t choose to be alone. I didn’t choose to be hungry. But this is the hand I’ve been dealt, and I have no choice but to accept it. Life isn’t fair—that’s a lesson I’ve learned all too well.

The sun is setting now, casting a golden hue over the city. The streets are quieter, and the hustle and bustle of the day are fading. I curl up in my corner, trying to keep warm. My stomach is still empty, and my heart is still heavy. Today is my birthday, but it’s just another day. There are no presents, no cake, and no one to sing me happy birthday. I suppose I should be used to it by now, but it still hurts.

I close my eyes and try to imagine a different life. In my mind, I’m in a cozy house, curled up on a soft rug by a roaring fire. There’s a bowl of food in front of me, filled to the brim with delicious treats. A kind human strokes my fur, whispering sweet words in my ear. I can hear laughter, feel warmth, and for a moment, I’m happy. But then, reality crashes back in, and I’m once again lying on the cold, hard ground, alone.

It’s strange to think about what tomorrow will bring. Probably the same as today. Another day of sitting, waiting, hoping. Another day of watching the world go by, unnoticed. Another day of feeling the pang of hunger and the ache of loneliness. But maybe—just maybe—tomorrow will be different. Perhaps someone will see me. Perhaps someone will stop, bend down, and offer a kind word or a bite to eat. Perhaps tomorrow, I won’t feel so invisible.

But for now, I’ll just sit here in the quiet, staring at the stars as they begin to dot the night sky. I’ll think about the life I wish I had, the love I long for, and the warmth I crave. And as the world drifts off to sleep, I’ll remain here—waiting, hoping, and dreaming of a better tomorrow. Because even though today is my birthday and no one loves or celebrates me, I still have hope. And sometimes, hope is all you have.