I didn’t have the heart to shut my bedroom door. Jas and Sasha had snuggled together on their big cushion and were already half asleep when I turned off all the main lights; likewise, Malachi, Inca and Yoda had settled on their individual cushions and did not follow me as I walked through the lounge-room towards my bedroom. From my doorway I surveyed the peaceful scene; the small lamp on the kitchen window sill shed a soft and comforting yellow light over that end of the house; and in the middle of the open-plan living area, to the left of a spiral staircase, the lights on the Christmas tree twinkled and winked on and off. No need to hunt for the switch – if it became bothersome during the night I would shut my door.

I changed out of my thick polar bear onesie in preference for a thinner grey one with white spots, still fluffy (but more like a rabbit than a bear), and much more suitable for sleeping in. The big wooden four-poster bed, made to appear less massive and square at each corner by lengths of pastel coloured silk, looked sumptuous; and the red duvet cover was warm and inviting. For some time I just lay in bed and watched the reflection of the fairy lights which lit up the glass doors of the wood fire in the lounge. Although the hour was late sleep evaded me; I closed my eyes, pulled the duvet up around my ears and waited for sleep to come.

Presently, I became aware of padded feet on the floor – perhaps it was the click of nails on the ceramic tiles – and a dark head was at my bedside. In a moment the dog, as black as night, was lying at the end of my bed; quietly, and without great movement, she curved her body against my legs. When I had to move I did so very tentatively, trying not to disturb her; she responded likewise. For perhaps an hour I enjoyed the warmth of her body against me through the duvet; I liked the way she rested her head over my shin; I even liked the sound of her breathing.

Neither of us slept. I wondered which of the three larger dogs she was. I didn’t think it was Jas – Jas is old and not so nimble as the younger ones; it had to be Malachi or Inca. Inca is the youngest and awfully bouncy at times, she is apt to jump and barge for attention. No, I thought it was Malachi, my favourite (if I was forced to own to it). Malachi is patient, responsible and caring; like a sensible older sister, she watches over all whilst joining in for the fun too. I had to know if I was right. I reached down to pat the head at my left knee. She was awake; she lifted her head as my hand searched – her hair was straight and sleek… it was Inca! Not at all boisterous now.

My legs needed a change of position. I moved to the left and Inca went to the right; she was lying beside me with her head in the crook of my arm. Very gently, she nudged a paw against my side and I held her paw in my hand. Inca was so happy that her throat made sweet little noises; I was so happy that I shed a tear.

More nails clicking on the tiled floor – it was Malachi. Did she want to join us on the big four-poster? The more, the merrier. No, she wanted to tell me that Yoda needed to go out for a minute. As it happened, Jas and Sasha decided to join Yoda (you know what we females are like – we rarely like to miss an opportunity). We all went back to our respective beds, except for Inca, who hadn’t left her spot.

“Move over a bit,” I whispered as I slid under the red duvet.

I held her paw again to reassure her and she fell asleep with my fingers going through her silky hair; I knew she was asleep at last because she made little sucking noises like a baby. And sleep came to me… but not for long (at least it didn’t seem very long). Soon it was dawn and the whole troupe burst excitedly through my bedroom door.

As I was getting into the car to leave Inca came bounding over and licked my face. Strangely enough, I didn’t mind a bit.