Christmas was always a joyous occasion in our home; carols sung around the tree, the sound of laughter as presents were excitedly unwrapped, a fine turkey basking in the oven, the clicking of Grandmas knitting needles as she merrily regaled us with tales of yesteryear. Whilst Grandad, dressed as Father Christmas, furtively sank as many hot toddies as his wifes beady eye would allow. But this year would be different.

It was Christmas Eve - A time for Peace and Goodwill. However, just a few days earlier the dreaded flu bug had descended upon my husband, Paul, and myself as swiftly as a seagulls dropping, rendering us something akin to the living dead.

With head throbbing and limbs aching, I slumped wearily into bed, miserably clutching the last remnants of my now, luke warm hot water bottle. From the sound of snoring emanating from my beloved I was thankful hed already entered into a state of oblivion - having spent the day re-arranging the festivities, whilst at the same time playing Florence Nightingale to his dying swan, my nerves were worn to a frazzle. (men can be such babies!). So raising my glass of Lemsip, I silently toasted him - Merry Christmas Darling.

Despite feeling wretched, sleep evaded me as I tossed and turned reflecting on happier times of Christmas past and of all the changes that had occurred within the family since the last one. The year hadnt altogether been good; after a brief illness Grandma had gone to The ladies big knitting circle in the sky. Then within only a few weeks, Grandad, not wishing to live without his sweetheart of some 57 years, also popped his clogs, leaving us to grieve the passing of a generation - how we missed those two dear gentlefolk.

Next to leave the fold, but under much happier circumstances, was our eldest son, Edward, who had entered into the blissful state of matrimony. Following in hot pursuit was his younger brother, James, who told his father and I that he needed to sow some wild oats before middle age set in - He was 20 going on 101 at the time!

And so our little clan had decreased in number, leaving us with only one offspring left in the nest - our 17 year old daughter, Elizabeth; a graceful child, fair of face, demure and unassuming. Didnt I wish! All those weird hair styles, skirts shorter than a belt, telephone bills which gave our Bank Manager near apoplexy. And oh those boyfriends, some of whom looked like a cross between The Mad Hatter, Boy George and Attila The Hun, with piercings and tattoos in places that didnt bear thinking about - that said, the current love of her life, Andy, was a refreshing change; He was clean and came from the same planet!

Judging by the pile of soggy tissues on my bedside table I must have been awake for hours. I wasnt sure. My throat was parched and swollen and I desperately needed another drink. It took a lot of effort but slowly I slipped on my dressing gown and made my way down stairs, noticing it was almost midnight on the clock in the hallway. Earlier I had heard Andys car pulling out of our drive as he brought Elizabeth home from the Christmas Eve disco theyd been to in nearby Plymouth.

As I approached the kitchen I could hear her voice. She was kneeling on the floor, spoon in one hand, a saucer of milk in the other, gently trying to coax a small, dishevelled, creature to drink. There was an urgency in her voice: Mom come quickly, look what we found in a bag by the river.

Over the years since the children had been small our rambling old house, surrounded by the beautiful Devonshire countryside, had become a haven for almost anything that had four legs and fur, or in the case of a mangy old bird wed inherited, one leg and feathers! I swear, had they been able to arrange it, our kids would have offered bed and board to the Mutant Ninja Turtles! As it was, with not a hint of a pedigree between them - save that of very big hearts and loving natures, our extended family from the animal kingdom currently consisted of Holly, Amy and Joe - our three dogs, all in their twilight years but still happily going strong. Billy and less - two macho looking Tom cats who could strut their stuff well enough, but every rodent for miles around was safe! We had guinea pigs, hamsters, rabbits and even the occasional injured or orphaned hedgehog and badger, who only needed lodgings and a little T.L.C. until they were able to return to the wild.

Last but not least was that mangy old bird wed inherited - our loveable Long John, so named because of the missing leg. He came to us from an Animal Rescue Sanctuary with the cheek to call himself a Myna Bird, but there was nothing minor about him, as he was, in fact, the Devil in disguise! It seems his previous owner had the brain cells of a moron and thought it a bit of a laugh to teach one of Gods little creatures to swear - bad language to the point of obscene! Fortunately, after four years of re-education in our household, this wily old birds list of profanities had dwindled to just the occasional Oh sod it, if he was asleep and fell off his perch.

Kneeling next to Elizabeth I could see that the tiny, frightened animal was a young pup, barely weeks old. There were three others, sobbed my daughter, but they were already dead by the time we found them. Andy has put them in the shed for Dad to bury to in the morning.

I could see her efforts at trying to get the little mite to take sustenance were all to no avail and as we spent the next half hour trying to persuade and cajole, without success, I began to wonder if we were loosing the battle for this little life. He had long since stopped shivering but was now just lying limply in Elizabeths arms.

Hot tears were streaming down her cheeks, Oh mom, there must be something we can do. We cant just let him die like this?. Sympathetically I listened to the desperation and anger in her voice - an anger that was now also fast rising in me. True, it was the festive season but as my thoughts turned to those inhuman beings whose despicable and callous actions had brought this little one to us, the last thing I was feeling was Goodwill to ALL men - but Id have to leave such matters in the hands of our local Police. Right now I had a more pressing crisis to deal with.

Taking my daughter in my arms I tried to re-assure her she had done all she could for the puppy - the rest was up to Mother Nature. Its very late, I told her, You go up to bed and Ill find a blanket to make him comfortable for the night and well see how things are in the morning. Elizabeth was reluctant to leave her charge but gently I took the little dog from her. Remember, I called after her as she climbed the stairs,HE sees even the tiniest sparrow fall. There came no reply - but I knew she understood.

With the pup safely nestled in my arms I walked quietly into the lounge. The warm glow from the wood-burner was casting its light across a heap of hairy bodies sleeping contentedly around its embers. As I carefully picked my way through them towards the big armchair in the corner, Holly, perhaps sensing the distress of one of her own kind, snuggled up to my side curiously viewing the new arrival.

By 1:30 a.m. my tiny patient had only stirred twice, each time to empty his bladder over my lap and for a little dog he sure had a large bladder - a fact which pleased me, as it was surely a good sign that parts of him were working normally. Although he still hadnt opened his eyes, his breathing seemed less rapid - intuition seemed to be telling me that he still had a fighting chance, maybe only slight, but never the less any hope was better than me just sitting there waiting for his little life to ebb away in my arms. Laying him gently on the blanket, I telephoned the Vet. At such an unearthly hour I didnt rate my chances much in the popularity stakes.

Our own Vet was very sensibly off duty but if ever there was an Angel Of Mercy, that night she arrived at my door in the guise of a young locum whod drawn the short straw.

Her thorough examination revealed the puppy was approximately 5 to 6 weeks old and suffering from hypothermia, possibly pneumonia, worms, mange and without doubt his tiny form was playing host to a tribe of the little offenders. The Vet gently administered two injections but explained that she felt, in all truth, there wasnt much hope. Thanking her I watched her go into the cold night air and with one last farewell, she called to me If he can just make it through the night then there could still be a chance.

The peal from the bells of our tiny village church rang out across the fields joyfully welcoming in the Christmas morn. The night had been fretful and long but I was about to receive the best Christmas present anyone could ask for - a prayer answered. There on my lap lay the tiny pup, yawning and stretching, his two little doe-like eyes open wide.

Tears of joy and relief began pouring down my face but were soon wiped away by a batch of excitedly placed wet kisses as a warm nose met a cold one!

With his stubby tail wagging like a windmill in a hurricane, my little chum yet again had his bladder set on pee mode, sending a warm spray trickling down to my toes. Gently pressing his little nose close to mine I stared into the most endearing pair of brown eyes; Now listen young sir, if you wanna be in my gang, the puddles in my lap are a big no-no, cos heres the deal - ME, big boss lady - YOU, just cute furry pet thing, O.K.? I knew hed understood the gist of my childlike ramblings as his cheeky face seemed to beam as he continued bombarding me with lip smacking, tongue lashing, kisses. Whilst at the same time peeing on my lap!

Almost twelve years have elapsed since that wondrous Christmas when a little miracle came into our lives - his name; Noel, affectionately known as Nolly.

Sadly, due to old age, all his friends mentioned in my story have been called to that far Greater Nature Reserve - we miss them all but have many wonderful memories of such loving creatures who shared our home and enriched our lives.

Im happy to say, our little Nolly is still with us enjoying life to the full, along with just a few new companions - but theirs is another story.