Today is my birthday, but as a disabled stray dog, no one has celebrated or given me presents, I’m still wandering alone
Today is my birthday, but unlike other dogs who are surrounded by love, treats, and presents, I am left wandering alone. As a disabled stray dog, there is no cake, no soft bed to curl up in, and no human arms to wrap me in affection. I have no collar, no home, and no one who even knows it’s my special day. To the world, I am just another forgotten creature, one of the many stray dogs that roam the streets, unnoticed and unloved. The loneliness I feel is deep, especially today, because even though I cannot speak, I know that this day is supposed to mean something.
When I was younger, I had a home. I remember the warm feeling of being petted and the joy of running around in a garden. My legs were strong, my body full of energy, and my spirit was bright. But those days feel like a distant memory now. One day, something terrible happened—an accident left me disabled. My back leg never healed properly, and I couldn’t run like I used to. My owners, the ones who I thought would take care of me forever, didn’t want me anymore. I was no longer the playful puppy they had once loved. I was broken, damaged, and no longer a part of their perfect world. And so, they left me.
The day they abandoned me is one I’ll never forget. I waited for hours, thinking they would come back, but they never did. I was left on the street, confused and scared. The world outside was harsh and unforgiving. My disability made it hard to keep up with the other stray dogs who had already learned how to survive in this cruel environment. They could run faster, jump higher, and find food more easily than I ever could. For me, every day was a struggle. The physical pain from my leg was constant, but the emotional pain of abandonment was even worse.
The streets are no place for a disabled dog. While able-bodied strays can at least defend themselves or scavenge for food with some success, I move slowly and awkwardly. Many days, I go without food. I watch as other animals fight over scraps, knowing I stand no chance against them. The hunger gnaws at me, but even more, the feeling of being invisible to everyone around me is what truly hurts. People walk past me without a second glance. To them, I’m just another sad figure on the side of the road, not worthy of attention, let alone love.
And then there’s the weather. On days when the sun is too hot, I can barely find any shade. The heat beats down on me, and I long for a cool place to rest, but there is nowhere to go. When it rains, I shiver, soaked and cold, with nowhere to shelter from the storm. I dream of the days when I used to have a warm, dry place to sleep, but now even those dreams seem like cruel illusions. On nights when the air is bitterly cold, I curl up as best I can, trying to find some warmth in the dirt, but it’s never enough. The streets are indifferent to my suffering.
Today, as I wander alone, it feels worse than most days. It’s my birthday—a day that once would have been filled with joy, but now it’s just like any other day on the streets. No one knows, no one cares, and I am left to face the cruel reality of my existence. There are no presents, no treats, and certainly no warm hands to comfort me. I’ve heard people talk about birthdays, how they’re meant to be a celebration of life, a time when you feel loved and appreciated. But for me, today is just a reminder of how far I’ve fallen from the life I once knew.
As I limp down the street, I see other dogs playing, barking, and wagging their tails as they run around with their owners. They are loved. They are cared for. And I am not. I try to remind myself that I once had that too, but it feels like a lifetime ago. I wonder what it would be like to feel that kind of love again—to be fed, to have a bed, to be held. But those thoughts only bring more sadness because deep down, I know those days are gone. All I have now is the street, the hunger, and the never-ending search for survival.
Sometimes, I wonder if anyone even notices me. Do they see the limp in my walk? Do they notice the sadness in my eyes? Or am I just another stray to them, one among many who they pass by without a second thought? I’ve seen people look at me with pity, but none of them stop to help. None of them reach out with kindness. I’ve learned that to most humans, stray dogs like me are invisible. They don’t see the pain, the loneliness, or the longing for even the smallest bit of love.
Despite everything, I still hold on to a tiny spark of hope. Maybe, just maybe, someone will see me today. Maybe someone will stop and show me a little kindness. It doesn’t have to be much—just a pat on the head, a gentle word, or even a small piece of food would mean the world to me. But as the hours pass, that hope fades. People continue to walk by, wrapped up in their own lives, too busy to notice the stray dog limping along the sidewalk. And so, I keep moving, one painful step at a time.
Today is my birthday, but it’s just another day in the life of a stray. There are no celebrations, no laughter, and no love. I am still wandering alone, just as I have for so many days before. But even in the face of all this hardship, I continue to survive. Because that’s all I know how to do—survive.
Maybe one day, I will find someone who cares, someone who will see beyond my disability and my status as a stray. Maybe one day, I will feel loved again. But for now, I am alone. Today is my birthday, but no one is celebrating—not even me.
