Hesi’s world was small, confined to the chain-link fence of his kennel. He’d been at the shelter for a long time, long enough to see countless other dogs come and go, their tails wagging excitedly as they left with new families. He’d watch them disappear through the front doors, a pang of longing echoing in his heart.
He wasn’t a puppy anymore. The youthful energy that had once propelled him to bounce against the kennel bars had faded, replaced by a quiet resignation. His fur, once a glossy black, was now tinged with grey around the muzzle. His ears, slightly too large for his head, drooped at uneven angles, giving him a perpetually worried expression. He’d seen the quick glances, the averted eyes, the hushed whispers. He knew he wasn’t the first choice, the one who drew immediate coos and outstretched hands.
He’d watch as families stopped at other kennels, their faces lighting up as they connected with a playful puppy or a sleek, well-groomed adult. He’d see the smiles, the gentle coos, the outstretched hands. Then, they’d pass his kennel, their expressions often changing, a flicker of something he couldn’t quite decipher – perhaps pity, perhaps indifference – crossing their faces.
He’d lower his head slightly, his tail giving a final, almost apologetic thump against the concrete floor. He didn’t blame them. He knew there were so many other dogs vying for attention, so many other dogs with flashier coats and more energetic personalities. He was just Hesi, a quiet, unassuming dog hoping for a chance.
He’d overheard snippets of conversations between the shelter staff, hushed comments about his “unusual” appearance. He’d heard words like “awkward” and “not very attractive.” He didn’t understand what these words meant, but he could feel the weight of their meaning, the subtle sting of rejection.
He knew his fourth birthday was coming up. He’d seen the small calendar taped to the wall, the date circled in red. He didn’t understand the human concept of birthdays – the cakes, the presents, the cheerful songs – but he sensed it was something special, a day for celebration.
He sat patiently by the front of his kennel, his large ears drooping, his tail giving a small, hesitant wag whenever someone walked by. He hoped, with a quiet desperation, that today would be different. He hoped that someone would stop at his kennel, look past his slightly awkward features, and see the loving heart that beat within him.
But as the day wore on, and the light outside began to fade, a heavy sadness settled over Hesi. He hadn’t received any extra attention, no new toy, no special treats. No one had even stopped to wish him a happy birthday.
He thought, My birthday is coming…but no one has said anything. No one has even looked at me today. Is it because…is it because I’m ugly? Is that why no one wants me? The thought was a heavy weight on his small shoulders, a deep ache in his heart. He just wanted a little recognition, a little kindness, a little love. He just wanted to know that he wasn’t entirely forgotten, especially on his birthday. He just wanted to be seen, to be acknowledged, to be wished well.
