September 6th was my birthday. It was a day that I would have rather slept through. A total of 8 people wished me happy birthday and one of them was not my son. I had to take the dog we just adopted to a rescue because my chiwawa mix (Beverly) was vomiting on herself, peeing on the floor, refusing to move, shaking and had been tossed around a bit by the dog who was an English Mastiff. A big dog was not a bad idea, a HUGE dog was a horrible idea. My wife and mother-in-law hate me, if only temporarily, for getting rid of the dog, but I really had no choice as I could not put my Beverly in any more danger. I cleaned the couch to get rid of the big dog’s smell and I made dinner. I took care of my daughter so my wife could work and I got no time to myself. My wife did not even wish me a happy birthday until after 5pm. She did say that we could observe my birthday some other day, but it was my birthday and it seemed like everyone just forgot and didn’t care which makes me think they didn’t care about me. I don’t want a party I just want a little “happy birthday” form those that are supposed to love me and be my friends. My family even fell short, but I stopped counting on them years ago.
Another day, another year, another disappointment.