Hello Santa, My name is Pufa. Apparently you give out gifts? That's what I've heard. I am writing this letter to you for the first time, although I am a few years old. I didn't know someone like you existed. Until recently, I didn't know much at all. I lived with my sisters for as long as I can remember in a small, concrete, cramped pen. I had people around me, but what good was it if they weren't interested in us? What's the point of being there if they didn't give us love and care? What's the point of giving us food if we had to fight for it among ourselves? It was my whole world. I saw what the real world was like when I found my aunts and uncles, but I'm still terrified of it. I don't know why they attach this string to my back, but they say it's for my good, so I'm asking you, Santa, for a training rope, because every day I try to walk further and further outside. This food, or rather the leftovers I ate, still makes my stomach hurt, so Diadog would help me a lot, along with dry food, but definitely gastro. What I eat now is delicious, but I still have stomach problems. There is still a lot ahead of me, I am learning and discovering many things. Everyone around me is trying to help me, but it's very hard for me to get used to so many changes. I hope you will listen to me, Santa, and it will turn out to be true that you exist. Thank you, Pufa.

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