I have been lying quietly on the floor for a long time today.
I hear doors opening, footsteps passing, and voices fading into other rooms.
But no one stops beside me.
No one calls my name.
No one gently touches my head and says, “Happy birthday, little one.”
I do not need a big cake.
I do not need presents.
I only want one warm hand resting on my head, one soft voice calling me a good dog, and one loving look that tells me I still matter.
I tried to be extra good today.
I did not bark.
I did not bother anyone.
I just rested my face against the cold floor and waited to see whether someone would remember me.
But the hours kept passing.
The room stayed quiet.
And I started wondering whether the birthday of a tiny dog like me simply does not matter.
Maybe I am too small to be remembered.
Maybe I am not special enough for anyone to celebrate.
Still, I am holding on to one little hope.
Before this day ends, maybe someone will notice me, smile, and tell me I have not been forgotten.
Because I can feel sadness too.
I know what it means to wait.
And it hurts when no one remembers the day I came into this world.
So if you see me lying here, please do not think I am only sleeping.
I am waiting for one small birthday wish.
Just enough to remind me that even a tiny dog like me can mean something to someone.
