A Birthday Without Balloons — Just a Wish to Be Noticed 

Today marks another year — not that anyone has counted. There are no decorations, no laughter, no wrapped gifts waiting with my name. Just me, quietly sitting in the corner of a shelter, watching life go on without me. Today is my birthday. I am one year older, but still unseen. No candles. No song. Just the echo of a wish I’ve made over and over again: to be loved.

They walk past me quickly, eyes flicking toward the younger ones with shiny coats, bouncy steps, and endless energy. I don’t blame them. I used to be like that once. But time has softened my pace and shaded my muzzle. I no longer leap — I lean. I no longer bark — I wait. And still, my heart thumps with the same steady hope: “Will today be the day someone chooses me?”

I may not be perfect. My legs wobble, my eyes squint in light, and my fur carries more grey than gold. But inside this old body is a love as bright and pure as ever — unconditional, quiet, endlessly loyal. I don’t need much: a soft place to rest, a kind hand to touch, a voice that says my name like it means something.

So as the world rushes by, I sit and make a wish. Not for toys or treats, but for a family who will look at me and see more than age — who will see a soul who still believes in the magic of being chosen. Just one moment. One heart. One home.

Because every life — no matter how old or overlooked — deserves to be celebrated. Even mine.