As I wander through the alleys, I can’t help but hope for a simple birthday wish from someone. It’s a fleeting thought, a small desire for a moment of recognition. However, I quickly dismiss the idea, knowing all too well my status as a stray dog, often overlooked and ignored by society.

Life on the streets is tough, and companionship is rare. I am just a filthy stray dog, moving from place to place, searching for scraps of food and a bit of warmth. People often avert their eyes when they see me, perhaps because they don’t want to be reminded of the harsh reality that creatures like me face every day.

Despite my rough exterior and the grime that clings to my fur, I am not devoid of feelings. I, too, crave love and care, much like any other living being. On this particular day, my birthday, I find myself yearning for a gentle pat on the head or even just a kind word.

The world can be a lonely place for a stray dog. Most people pass by without a second glance, their lives busy and full of their own concerns. Yet, in the quiet moments, when the streets are empty, I allow myself to dream. I dream of a time when I might find a family, a home where I am welcomed and loved.

Even though the likelihood of receiving birthday wishes is slim, I hold on to a small glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, someone will see beyond my ragged appearance and offer a moment of kindness. Until then, I continue my journey, navigating the city with a mixture of resilience and hope, ever the stray dog searching for a place to belong.