While I was living with my birth mother, a lovely family (as I thought) came and took me home with them one Christmas Eve. I had a lovely Christmas and lots of attention and presents.

Then, two or three weeks later I was left on my own when everyone went back to school and work. I was bored, lonely and frustrated, so I started being a bit naughty. Unfortunately, nature played a part and I wet and messed in the house. I was punished and quickly went to the bottom of the list as far as favouritism was concerned.

Life was not too good for the next few months. One day my adopted father put me in the car and said we were going for a ride. After several miles the car stopped, I was pushed out and the car sped off. I wandered around for a day or so, and then a van came and picked me up and took me to a rescue kennels.

The following day, a family came and started fussing me. A few days later they came back and took me home with them. I had a lovely new bed and toys and lots of love and affection. I went work with my new Mum and life was great.

I’ve been there eight years now and I love them as much as they love me.

The moral of the story is “An animal is for life, not just for Christmas”.