Ema’s world was a rich tapestry of sounds and smells. He couldn’t see the vibrant hues of the flowers, the shifting patterns of sunlight and shadow, or the smiling faces of the people who passed him by. His world was internal, a world built on the rustling of leaves beneath his paws, the rumble of distant traffic, the comforting scent of his mother.
His mother, a gentle golden retriever, had always been his guide, his protector, his world. She’d nuzzle him gently, her warm breath ruffling his fur, and whisper in his ear, “You’re so beautiful, Ema. The most beautiful boy in the world.”
He couldn’t see the look in her eyes as she said those words, but he could feel the warmth of her love, the sincerity in her voice. He trusted her implicitly. If she said he was beautiful, then he believed her.
Today felt different, though. There was a subtle shift in the atmosphere, a buzz of excitement that hadn’t been there before. He could smell the distinct aroma of treats, and he’d overheard snippets of conversations about “birthdays” and “celebrations.” He didn’t understand the human concept of birthdays, but he sensed it was a special day, a day for joy and attention.
He sat patiently by his mother’s side, his head tilted slightly, as if listening to secrets the air carried. He’d hear the happy barks of other dogs, the excited chatter of children, the gentle voices of owners calling their pets. He longed to join in the fun, to feel the joy of running and playing, but he knew his limitations.
He couldn’t see the ball being thrown, the other dogs chasing each other, the smiling faces of the people around him. But he could feel the warmth of his mother’s body beside him, the gentle pressure of her head resting on his back, and the vibrations of approaching footsteps.
He waited, hoping that someone would stop, that someone would offer a kind word, a gentle touch. He waited for someone, besides his mother, to acknowledge him on this special day.
But as the day wore on, and the light outside began to fade, a quiet sadness settled over him. No one had stopped to wish him a happy birthday. No one had offered him a special treat or a gentle pat. Only his mother had told him he was beautiful, but he yearned for more.
He thought, Mama says I’m beautiful…but if I’m so beautiful, why hasn’t anyone said happy birthday to me? Why hasn’t anyone come to see me today? The questions echoed in his mind, a quiet, heartbreaking refrain.
He didn’t need a party or presents. He just wanted a simple acknowledgment, a kind word, a gentle touch from someone other than his mother. He longed for someone to see past his blindness and recognize the loving companion he truly was. He longed for someone to understand that even though he experienced the world differently, his heart beat with the same unwavering love as any other dog. He just wanted to be seen, to be accepted, to be loved, even just a little, especially on his birthday. He trusted his mother’s words, he believed he was beautiful, but the silence of the day made him wonder if anyone else could see that beauty too.
