Today should have been special. It’s my birthday, and for weeks, I’ve been waiting, holding onto the hope that my owner would return, just as they did every year. The familiar routine always brought such joy. I would watch them prepare my favorite treats, and then we would spend the whole day together, celebrating in the only way we knew—filled with laughter, belly rubs, and long walks. But today is different. Today, the house is quiet, and each sound I hear from outside makes me lift my head, my heart pounding, wondering if it’s finally them at the door.

This morning, I woke up early, hoping to catch that familiar scent of breakfast in the kitchen, but only silence greeted me. As I padded over to the door, I lay down with my nose pressed to the floor, ears perked up, listening for the faintest hint of their footsteps. The hours drifted by, and still, nothing. The world outside moved on as normal—birds chirped, cars passed, and neighbors’ voices floated through the air, but inside, my heart was heavy.

I tried to keep myself busy, playing with my toys and roaming through each room, hoping to find some trace of their presence. The memories filled each corner: our spot by the window where we would watch the world together, the cozy spot on the couch where they would curl up next to me, and the hallway where we would race, me usually winning by a nose. Each memory was a small treasure, but it also reminded me of how much I missed them.

As the day went on, I found myself back at the door. I waited and waited, the hours slipping by like grains of sand through my paws. The shadows outside began to grow long, and the sunlight dimmed, casting an orange glow across the room. I still waited, hopeful, watching the door with eager eyes. My heart ached, but I held onto the faint hope that any moment now, they would appear, arms open, smiling just as I remembered.

But as the sun disappeared and night fell, I realized that they weren’t coming. My hopes faded like the daylight, and I lay down, curling up tightly by the door. The loneliness weighed heavily on me. I could feel each heartbeat, each breath, as I thought about my owner and the birthdays we had shared together.

Sometimes, I don’t understand why humans leave and don’t come back. I wish I could have told them how much they mean to me, how I wait for them each day, and how much joy they bring into my life. As I drifted to sleep, I dreamed of those happy moments—their laughter, the way they would call my name, the warmth of their embrace. And in my dream, I was happy again, if only for a little while.

Perhaps tomorrow, I will look up again, hoping they’ll come back.