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I used to spend my working days with animals. That was the easy part. The real challenge was dealing with their owners. My husband and I once owned a boarding kennel and cattery. While my husband toiled on various building sites I attended to the needs of our canine and feline guests. Seven days a week I scrubbed out kennels and cat cages, topping up water bowls, exercised and entertained the animals, prepared delicious doggy cuisine and administered medication to those who needed it.

In between tending to our four-legged guests I'd indulge and pacify their owners, promising Fido or Fluffy would be as happy as a bug in a rug while they were away. Thankfully most owners were relatively easy to satisfy. Confident their pets would be well cared for in their abscence they'd leave their beloved pets in my capable hands. Leaving with barely a backward glance they'd head off on holiday dry eyed and fancy free. Others were not so easily placated, which is when my job became a little more stressful.

It was the start of the Christmas holidays, the busiest time of the year for boarding kennels. A constant stream of cars came and went chocker with luggage, kids, dogs and cats. The luggage and kids would stay in the car while the dogs and cats would stay with us. Mind you, judging by the frenzied state of many parents, I'm sure they would have gratefully left their kids behind as well, had that been an option.

One Christmas eve a shiny silver BMW pulled up outside the reception area at the front of our house. As usual I descended the front steps to welcome the latest furry guest and of course greet it's owners. The husband looked a little frazzled and pointed to his wife who sat strangely hunched over in the passenger seat. On closer inspection I saw she was sobbing into the snow white hair of two bewildered Bichon dogs. Their coiffured coats were sodden from her tears, their ears assaulted by her wailing, their desperate expressions begging rescue from her emotionally charged embrace.

Her long-suffering husband gingerly opened the car door. We each extracted a tear soaked and mascara stained Bichon from her manicured hands setting them down on the ground attached to their diamante studded leads. The distraught woman reluctantly peeled herself from the leather upholstery, teetering on sling-back stilettos towards the rear of the car. Rushing to assist his whimpering wife, the husband removed a chilly bin and leopard print suitcase from the car boot.

"I've packed a few essentials

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