By daily 
Dexter’s birthday dawned quietly, and he waited eagerly, his ears perked, for the first “Happy Birthday!” But as the day went on, no one seemed to notice. Con was curled up by the fire, and Qupy and Maxim were too busy with their usual play. Even Rudy trotted by without so much as a glance.
Feeling a pang of sadness, Dexter wandered off to his favorite spot under the old willow tree in the backyard. He sat there alone, staring at the leaves swaying gently, wondering if maybe birthdays just weren’t meant to be celebrated.
As he settled into the grass with a sigh, something caught his eye—a small box, tied with a ribbon, resting beside the tree. His nose twitched in surprise. Carefully, he nudged it open, revealing a delicious bone and a small note: “Happy Birthday, Dexter. Love, your secret friend.”
Dexter’s tail started wagging wildly. Maybe no one had thrown him a big party, but someone cared enough to make him feel special. With the sun casting a warm glow over him, Dexter realized his day wasn’t so lonely after all.