'You just don't feel Christmas coming do you? It slowly creeps up on you,' remarked Sally to her neighbour, Anne. 'It can be a very lonely time for the elderly'. 'But sure don't you have Paddy and Fido for company,' answered Anne. 'I might as well have nobody,' replied Sally; 'only for poor old Fido I don't know what I'd do.'

Sally and Paddy were an elderly couple in their mid-seventies. They lived on the first floor of an apartment block with their pet dog, Fido.
Pets weren't normally allowed in the building but Fido had been part of their lives for many years, and when they first moved there a few years ago the kindly landlord hadn't the heart to tell them otherwise. It was a very small apartment block with only four families, two couples on the ground floor and Paddy and Sally and the single woman called Anne on the first. Anne was a very independent lady and kept to herself a lot, but, at the same time, she could be a good neighbour if the need arose. Paddy had been in bad health this last couple of years, but he cleverly played on his illness and poor long suffering Sally had to put up with all his criticisms and demands. She would be woken up at about seven every morning by Paddy; who would say the same thing day in day out. 'What about a nice cup of tea, Sal?' 'I'll give him tea all right,' Sally would mutter to herself, 'lazy so and so, there's no reason why he can't make the tea an odd morning. Even if it was only on a Sunday!' She often felt like saying, 'Yes, Paddy; I'd love a nice cup of tea, with a plain biscuit maybe?'

Paddy had developed lung problems and since then had taken to his bed and stayed in it most of the time, even though he had been advised by the doctor to take light exercise, but he did not help himselfat all. He smoked nearly sixty cigarettes a day; drank a few glasses of whiskey at home most nights, and the nights he missed would be when his pal Mike called to bring him down to the local pub. Paddy's demands seemed to be non-stop every day; and even when poor Sally sat down for a rest it was either: 'Cup of tea, Sal,' or 'I think Fido wants feeding, Sal', or 'I'm out of cigarettes, Sal, you wouldn't just nip down to the shop', and even 'Hand me up the remote, Sal.' These were just a few of what Paddy called 'his small little requests' and Sally never even once got a thank you or a look of appreciation.

She was a timid woman who had a lot of patience, and her only few moments of joy was when her nephew, James, called in to see them for a few minutes on his way home from work each day. Normally on Christmas Day, James and his wife and the two kids would call round after tea for a drink, but this particular Christmas they were going away for a week and Sally would have only Paddy and Fido to celebrate the festivities with.

'Dear God, Fido!' she could often be heard sighing as she walked down the stairs. 'I can't bear the thoughts of Christmas this year,' she thought, as it got nearer and nearer and the winter evenings became longer. 'How lonely it's going to be! No visitors and nowhere open at all on Christmas Day'. All over the years, even before his health failed, Paddy had been the same, expecting her to do everything. Even on Christmas Day he wouldn't lift a finger. Sally would cook them a lovely dinner, and then while Paddy sipped his whiskey and watched television, she would wash up and clean the oven. Every year, a couple of weeks before Christmas, he would say to her 'I have a little surprise for you for Christmas, Sal.' And every year it would be the same thing, a medium sized box of Milk Tray. She just didn't have the heart to tell him that she had never been a great lover of chocolates, or that she might have liked something different, because after all, some wives got nothing at all. The chocolates normally got opened and shared around when James and the family came over later in the evening.

Around the beginning of December every year Sally would usually make a small Christmas pudding and a cake, but always left the buying of the turkey until a couple of days before Christmas. She would then get a small frozen one from the local supermarket, as there were only the two of them, and, of course, whatever was left over would not go to waste, not with Fido around. They didn't normally buy in a lot of food for Christmas, just a few extra bits maybe for when James and the family called, and a few drinks for anyone else that might call unexpectedly: These items would also be bought a couple of days beforehand. It was around the second week in December, the weather was particularly cold and Sally was feeling more and more depressed, not only with the thoughts of a lonely Christmas, but with Paddy's constant whinging. 'Will you turn the heating up a bit, Sal, and pass me that rug from the couch?' 'For God's sake, Paddy, do I have to do everything all the time?' she retorted. 'Dr. Hennessy did say that you were to take light exercise. Surely you can get your backside up off that chair now and again!' 'Oh, my chest, the pain,' began Paddy; 'pass me my tablets, Sal.' Paddy always played up if Sally ever started to stand up for herself.

A couple of days later Paddy started to say something strange. 'Oh, by the way Sal, don't bother to buy any turkey this year...' 'Why not?' she interrupted sarcastically. 'Are you taking me out for Christmas dinner?' 'Now, there's no need for that tone,' replied Paddy; 'it's Just that a frIend of Mlke's has offered to get us a turkey and a few other Christmas bits up the north at a cheaper price. I'll find out more from him when I meet him for a drink at the weekend.' 'Any excuse to drink,' thought Sally; 'he never seems to have any bother walking down to Mike's car, or walking into the pub for that matter.' Though over the last few months Paddy had hardly gone to the pub at all, except maybe just once or twice, and Sally had hopefully thought he might be cutting down, as he also seemed to be drinking less whiskey at home.

'Maybe he's taking note of what I say at last,' she said to Fido, as he looked up at her with his big brown eyes. 'You take it all in, don't you, you old pet?' The days just seemed to fly and it was now only a few days away from Christmas and Sally was getting a bit concerned because Paddy hadn't said any more about those cheaper Christmas goods his friend had offered to get for them. 'Paddy, Mike would want to be letting us know now about that turkey; it's only four days to Christmas Eve, and if we don't hear from him I'll have to start looking out for one the day after tomorrow at the latest. And then there's the Christmas crackers, the drinks and biscuits, they'll also have to be got if Mike can't get them.' 'Don't be worrying, Sal, it'll be all sorted out and all the things will arrive on Christmas Eve morning' replied Paddy with a sort of smirk on his face. 'Ooh!' thought Sally, 'it's all right for him to smirk, but what if Mike doesn't bring them, it'll be too late then to get them in the supermarket. Paddy doesn't care, it's not him who has to carry it home and prepare and cook it all.'

A couple of mornings later, the day before Christmas Eve, Sally had washed up after breakfast and was getting ready to go to the supermarket to get some meat for the dinner. As she went to get her coat, Paddy said that he had something to tell her. 'Sal, will you put your good clothes on, I'm putting mine on too, and will you pack a few things in a couple of bags that'll do us for a few days? 'Have you gone totally mad or what, Paddy Lenihan? I think I'll call the doctor for you!' retorted Sally, who looked very confused and worried. 'No, Sal, I'm as sane as you are. Do you remember me telling you about a little surprise that I had for you for Christmas? Well, this is it. Yourself and myself are going away for Christmas with James, Mary and the kids. We'll all be staying in that nice hotel just outside Galway and you won't have to lift a finger all over Christmas.'

Sally was just left standing there with her mouth open. 'But...but we can't afford that, Paddy, where are we going to get the money from?' And then a horrible thought came into her head. 'And what about Fido? We can't leave him, and we can't take him.' 'Oh,' replied Paddy. 'Did I not mention? It's all taken care of. Anne next door has offered to take Fido, sure doesn't he know her well by now! And the money - I've been putting a bit by from my pension this long time. Why do you think I stopped going to the pub with Mike? Now Sal, don't be delaying, James will be calling for us in a couple of hours and well get lunch somewhere along the way!'

'Paddy Lenihan,' she gasped, 'this is the best surprise I have ever had in my whole life. And you will be the best looked after husband in the whole of Ireland when we come back.' 'I know, Sal, I know,' replied Paddy. 'Sure haven't you always done your best for me.'