And then they heard the angels tell:

‘Who were the first to cry Nowell?

Animals all as it befell,

In the stable where they did dwell!’

Joy shall be theirs in the morning!

            From the Field Mice’s carol in The Wind in the Willows (Kenneth Grahame)

I’d forgotten this lovely carol from The Wind in the Willows, until I recently bought a fine Eric Gill wood engraving (which I would upload here – only I don’t know how. Memo to self – New Year lesson!). No matter; if you Google the artist’s name + ‘Who were the first to cry Nowell’ you’ll be able to see it. On the left hand side, Mary and baby Jesus are in silhouette, with a wonderful gathering of animals on the right. Gill makes the message clear with lettering on three sides: the first creatures to worship at that very first Nativity in a stable were not humans, but animals.

And why not?  Like many people, I think animals have a spiritual power, an understanding we can only guess at. To illustrate this, I’ll tell a sweet little story which I’ve kept private until now. It was the night before the cremation of my little dog Bonnie. Rather horribly, I’d had to put her in the freezer until my desperately-sad husband returned from France, where he was working when she died on Wednesday November 4th. But of course she was treated with reverence: wrapped in one of my lovely shawls and laid in a large shallow box with a lid.

So, the night before her morning cremation on November 10th we took her out and laid her in her ‘coffin’ on the conservatory dining table, surrounded by candles. The room was very cold; it was about 7pm; she had only been there about an hour; so – to be blunt – there was no way there could have been any. ..well…whiff. My son Daniel (who lives next door) came round after work to say goodbye to Bonnie. His chocolate labrador Dotty trotted at his heels, as usual. He and I stood facing each other in the dark, candlelit conservatory, each side of the table where Bonnie lay.  Then in that still, chilly space, Dan and I  witnessed a change in his dog. She looked up at the table, sniffed, reared up a little to see… looked curious, then almost anxious…sniffing and looking all the while…

Then it happened. Dotty wheeled and walked right past her master, purposefully coming all the way around to the opposite side of the table, where I was standing – so sad. The beautiful labrador came to me, stood up on her hind legs, put her paws on my shoulders and kissed me. Yes, she knew. She licked my face and my neck and didn’t get down but went on cuddling and consoling me. My son was amazed and so was I.  Our eyes met and we smiled, so glad that we were both witnesses to this phenomenon – this instinctive response of compassion from a lovely dog. We both knew Dotty was saying, ‘I know the little dog is dead, and I’m so sorry. But I love you!’ (lick, lick, lick)

It was like a blessing from the animal – and I shall never forget it. So I chose this quotation for the top of my Mail column to make the point that animals bear witness to mystery – just as Dotty did. In the Kenneth Grahame’s sweet carol which the field mice sing to Rat and Mole, the angels are proclaiming that it was animals who received the first benediction. Quite right too.

A very merry Christmas to you – and may joy also be yours in the morning.