On 24th December, we will have been in England for five years. I remember moving here very well, how cold and scared my sister and I were, how big all the buildings seemed and how dark it got at night. It was funny to sleep in a new house, in a completely new town, in a completely new country. We only knew how to say a few words in English like cat and dog and happy birthday.

It was a freezing night when we first arrived at a hotel in the middle of London. Our room faced on to a huge roundabout. I remember I couldn't sleep at night, so I'd sit by the window watching the cars speed and beep around the roundabout and the drunk men in the street shouting at the windows, at cars and often, at absolutely nothing. It was a scary time. We missed our family and we had no idea what was going to happen or where we were going. But sometimes I couldn't sleep because butterflies were jumping around in my tummy with all the excitement about being in England and the thought of the new friends I was going to find.

It was about this time that we found Minnie. It was on Christmas day five years ago. Being in England without my cousins, grandparents, aunties was hard. I know my mum and dad really wanted us to be happy and let us play all day but I could tell my mum was sad.

My dad, my sister and I went for a walk to the nearest park, along the quiet streets, under the massive roundabout, through the stinky graffiti tunnel. Just when we were passing one of the biggest bins I had ever seen I heard a tiny sound, 'Miaouw, miaouw'. There we found her, a tiny, black and white, red-eyed bundle of fur, crawling out of a paper bag; Minnie, my little Christmas cat, my little Santa Paws.

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