NOT many sleeps left now and the excitement is building. Letters are on their way to Lapland and children everywhere are on their best behaviour.

Maisie, my youngest grandchild, is trying so hard to be good, after confessing to me last year that she was a bit concerned as to which "list" she might be on; naughty or nice?

Thankfully, after a brief, but candid discussion, we reached the conclusion that there was still time to turn things around, with just a tiny bit more effort and application on her part.

The cats, on the other hand, have been extremely helpful this year. Re-arranging, for example, the baubles on the Christmas tree, ridding the area of vermin, etc, etc. Hence, they are both quietly confident in their own minds that they have been amazing, as always.

But besides all the traditional preparations at this time of year, it is also necessary to check that stocks of medication will last throughout the holiday, for both humans and animals alike. Hence, the Dowager Duchess and I found ourselves at the vets recently, collecting a quarterly prescription for her heart medication.

There were two other families in the waiting room when we arrived. On one side, a lady was sitting anxiously on the edge of her chair, while her husband stood in front of the window gazing out, at nothing in particular.

They too had a Cavalier bitch, but she was upstairs undergoing an emergency caesarean section. Looking down at the Dowager Duchess, I couldn’t help but smile. Was it really eight years ago that we had been in such a similar position?

On the other side of the room, a couple with a very elderly Labrador were waiting too. The old dog looked bewildered and was unsteady on his feet; this was the other end of the spectrum.

At one point I heard his owners complain about the length of their wait, it had been nearly half an hour after all. My heart went out to them, some things are best to get on with.

When it was our turn, the Dowager Duchess stood obligingly on the scales for her weight check, tail wagging politely, smiling broadly as only a Cavalier can. Likewise on the table she stood obediently while the vet listened to her heart.

"This is quite bad now," said my vet quietly, but that didn’t really come as a surprise. Vets have been telling me just that for quite some time now, but thankfully, this appears to be something to which Jennifer is totally unaware. At least if she is aware, she certainly doesn’t seem to worry about it.

The matriarch of our household, Jennifer still keeps the others in line when necessary. She still chases squirrels and enjoys her daily walk, unless, of course, it’s raining. Jennifer really dislikes rain, puddles and mud for that matter, but when it comes to fox poo, well that is a very different story.

As we were leaving with our prescription, the elderly Labrador and his family were at last in the consulting room. The little ruby Cavalier bitch and her box of five squeaky babies were being loaded into their car ready to go home and start their new lives.

So here, in just one afternoon, we had opposite ends of the spectrum, with ourselves being somewhere in between, albeit a little closer to one end than the other.

At the present moment in time, Jennifer is lying in her favourite place along the back of the sofa, which is an excellent vantage point to look out across the field and towards the woods where the foxes live. Meanwhile, the other two guys, Jennifer’s eight year old ‘puppies’, are snoring gently, in unison.

All is well in their world as we wait for Christmas to arrive. Paws crossed, we have all made it onto the nice list this year.