He was found wandering on Lonsdale all by himself, still with his umbilical cord and sack attached to him. His little nose was red raw, probably from dragging his head along the pavement. I called him Jack, after Jack Lonsdale.

He cried a lot and the only way to comfort him was to wrap him up and put him down my top, and that's where he spent the week of his life, all cosy, warm and loved. I got up every hour during the night to feed him, but I didn't mind at all. My dogs took turns cleaning him and he would snuggle in with them, probably wandering if they were his mom.

He always gathered a crowd when I had to feed him in public and most people thought he was a mouse because he was so small. One person told me he looked like a sushi roll all wrapped up.

I only had him a week, and he never even got to open his eyes to see me, but I loved him from the moment I held him in the palm of my hand, and I tried so hard to keep him alive, but it just wasn't meant to be. God bless you my little pip squeak.