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 I don't understand much about borders, papers, or countries. All I know is that one day my human, Loannes Saez, didn't come home. I waited for her at the door, like always, sniffing the air in case she was coming. Days passed, and she never arrived.
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 She was my person. The one who rescued me and scratched behind my ears when something scared me, who let me sleep by her side on the hard nights, who talked to me as if I understood every word — and I think, in my own way, I did. We were a team for a long time: her good days and her bad days, I was there. And now I keep waiting, anxious to see her again, and I know she's still fighting over there, in Venezuela, so we can be together again.
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 I know she didn't leave me because she wanted to. She was forced to go without being able to take me, and since then she hasn't stopped thinking about how to bring me back to her side. I've heard, from how the people caring for me now talk about her, that she's working hard to rebuild her life there — but bringing me costs money she doesn't have yet: around $3,200 between transportation, veterinary requirements, and all the documentation for me to travel safely.
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 I can't ask for this myself, so I'm asking through the words of whoever tells my story: if you have anything to give, every dollar brings me one step closer to sleeping beside her again. And if you can't donate, sharing this story also means a lot — sometimes it's enough for someone else to hear it.
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 I just want to go home. With her.
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 With all my love (and four paws),
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 Nezuko
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 A note from Loannes:
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 Hi, my name is Loannes Saez. I left Venezuela 9 years ago, escaping a painful situation that's hard to share in detail here. I came to the United States and did everything I could to follow the law, stay current with my documentation, and remain legal in this country. But one day, unjustly and without warning, I was detained at a routine appointment by an organization that was supposed to protect me, leaving behind everything I had worked so hard for. My dog was my support in overcoming my trauma and processing the painful moments of my past. From the bottom of my heart, I'm only asking for help to have her with me again. I don't like asking — I've always worked to create my own opportunities — but this situation is out of my hands. Thank you so much for taking the time to read this story.
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Ulrike Meyer

My name is Nezuko, and this is my story.

Todavía faltan $2,850. Ayúdanos a conseguir impulso.