The rain lashed against the corrugated iron roof of the abandoned shed, mirroring the storm raging inside Gusa. He huddled deeper into the pile of discarded blankets, shivering not just from the cold, but from the memories that haunted him. Today was his birthday, a fact he was dimly aware of, a vague sense of unease hanging in the air.
He didn’t understand the human concept of birthdays – the cakes, the presents, the cheerful songs. But he understood attention. He understood kindness. He understood the warmth of a gentle hand stroking his fur, the sound of a kind voice speaking his name. And today, that attention was conspicuously absent.
He remembered the day he was born, a blur of warm fur and the comforting scent of his mother. He remembered the playful nips and gentle nudges of his littermates, the warmth of the sun on his face. But those memories were now overshadowed by the trauma of his abandonment.
He remembered the car ride, the familiar scent of his owner’s car, the anticipation of a fun outing at the park. He remembered the sudden stop, the harsh shove, the sound of the engine fading into the distance, leaving him alone, abandoned in a strange and hostile world.
He’d spent days wandering the streets, confused and scared, searching for a familiar scent, a familiar voice. He’d scavenge for scraps of food, dodging hurried footsteps and the occasional cruel kick. He’d find shelter in doorways and alleyways, trying to escape the elements, trying to find a moment of peace.
He’d see other dogs, clean and well-groomed, walking happily beside their owners. He’d watch them receive loving pats and whispered words of affection, and a deep longing would fill his heart. He longed for that same connection, that same feeling of belonging, that same unconditional love.
He’d often find a quiet corner under a bridge, his head resting on his paws, a quiet sigh escaping his lips. He’d think about the day he was born, about the playful nips and the warm scent of his mother. He’d think about the day he was abandoned, the sound of the car fading into the distance, the loneliness that had consumed him ever since.
He thought, Today…today is supposed to be special. But I’m alone. Abandoned. A heavy sadness settled over him, a familiar weight in his chest. He didn’t need a party or presents. He just wanted a little recognition, a little kindness, a little love.
He thought, It’s my birthday…but I’m just a stray dog. No one will care. The thought was a cold, hard knot in his stomach. He didn’t need a grand celebration. He just wanted to feel seen, to feel acknowledged, to feel loved, even just for a moment. He wondered, with a deep ache in his heart, if it was because he was a stray, abandoned on his birthday, that no one had wished him a happy birthday. The thought was a cold, hard knot in his stomach. He was just a stray dog, and he knew, with a heartbreaking certainty, that his birthday would go unnoticed, just like every other day of his lonely life.
