Another birthday passes, but as a differently-abled stray dog, I’m still unnoticed and unloved
Another birthday passes, and as I sit alone in the shadows of an alleyway, the weight of my invisibility feels heavier than ever. For me, a differently-abled stray dog, birthdays are just markers of time—each one a stark reminder of the solitude and neglect that define my existence. While the world continues to spin and others celebrate their special days with joy and affection, my own birthday is an echo of the isolation I have come to know all too well.
The days blend into one another, and each year that passes is marked not by celebration but by the relentless challenges of surviving on the streets. My differently-abled body makes even the most basic tasks difficult. With a limp that makes movement slow and painful, and a body that bears the scars of harsh weather and neglect, my struggles are constant and visible to me, if not to others. My disability is not just a physical condition; it is a symbol of the broader struggle I face—being overlooked and left to fend for myself in a world that seems indifferent to my plight.
I remember a time when I had a family, or at least, that’s what I like to believe. I remember being loved, fed, and cared for. Those days are long gone, replaced by a reality where each day is a battle for survival. The streets are unforgiving, and the harshness of urban life is compounded by the fact that my needs are not easily met. My differently-abled state makes it difficult to find shelter, to find food, and even to seek out the occasional kindness that might come my way.
Today, as I huddle in a corner, trying to shield myself from the cold and the ever-present dangers of the street, I reflect on how different my life is from those who are celebrated and loved. I see other dogs with their owners, enjoying treats and receiving pats on the head. I see families gathered together, celebrating birthdays with joy and enthusiasm. The contrast between their happiness and my isolation is sharp and painful. Their celebrations are a reminder of what I once had and what I now lack.
There are no balloons or cakes for me, no happy birthday songs or heartfelt wishes. The concept of a birthday celebration feels like a distant fantasy, a luxury reserved for those who have the comfort of a home and the affection of a loving family. Instead, my birthday is a day like any other—marked by the search for food, the need to find shelter, and the constant vigilance required to stay safe. The idea of a birthday party, with all its accompanying joy, is foreign and unreachable.
The lack of acknowledgment for my birthday reflects a deeper issue of neglect and apathy that pervades the world. It highlights how easily those who are different or less visible are forgotten. My differently-abled status makes me even more of an outcast in a world that often values only the able-bodied and the outwardly “normal.” The struggles I face are not just physical but emotional, as the lack of love and recognition takes a toll on my spirit.
There are moments when I receive small acts of kindness—an extra piece of food from a compassionate stranger, a warm spot on a sunny day, or a gentle pat from someone who notices me. These moments are fleeting and rare, and they do little to fill the void of loneliness that defines my existence. They are brief flashes of light in an otherwise dark and challenging life.
Despite the hardships, I hold onto hope. Each birthday, though uncelebrated, is a testament to my resilience and endurance. I am still here, still fighting, and still clinging to the hope that things might one day change. I hope for a day when I will be seen and valued, not just for the love I have to give but for the life I continue to live despite the odds.
Today, as I sit in the quiet of my solitude, I make a silent wish. I wish for a world where every life, regardless of its circumstances, is acknowledged and celebrated. I wish for a world where every being—especially those who are differently-abled and struggling—receives the kindness and compassion they deserve. I wish for a world where no one is overlooked, where every birthday is an opportunity to spread love and recognition.
In the absence of a grand celebration, I find solace in the small victories. I take comfort in the fact that I am still here, that I am still moving forward despite the challenges. My life may not be marked by festive gatherings or joyful celebrations, but it is marked by an enduring spirit and a hope that one day, my existence will be recognized and valued.
Another birthday has come and gone, but the lessons it brings are not lost on me. I am reminded of the importance of compassion and the need to extend kindness to all living beings, especially those who are most vulnerable. My birthday, though unnoticed and uncelebrated, serves as a powerful reminder of the need for greater empathy and action in our world.
As I continue my journey through life, I carry with me the hope that one day, I will no longer be invisible, that my struggles
