Today is my birthday. There’s no cake, no candles, no excited voices singing songs. Just the quiet hum of the wind, the cold touch of concrete beneath me, and a flicker of hope still burning in my tired heart.

I may not be the pup that turns heads. My fur is patchy, my eyes a little cloudy, and my body bears the weight of years I wasn’t meant to carry alone. Life hasn’t been easy. I’ve wandered streets, felt the sting of hunger, and learned to sleep with one ear open.

But I’m still here.

Still breathing. Still wagging my tail when someone walks by, just in case they notice me. Still believing—somehow—that I matter. That someone out there might look past the wear and tear and see the good boy underneath.

I don’t need much. Not even a party. Just a moment. A smile. A kind word. A whisper of love that tells me I’m not forgotten.

So today, on my quiet little birthday, I make a wish — not for toys or treats, but for someone to care. Someone to say, “Happy birthday, sweet soul. You’re not alone.”

Because even the smallest spark of kindness can light up the darkest corners. And maybe, just maybe, today will be the day someone brings me home.