1. She wakes up at dawn but is coaxed back to the sofa for another couple of hours sleep. When my alarm goes off at 8:30 (her old feeding time in the shelter), she’s still sleepy and we cuddle instead. I explain to her that this is how the Peach household works: we always start the day with hugs.
2. By early afternoon, the cats still aren’t sure of her but seem to have decided she’s not a threat. They keep watching but not obsessively so and blinking all the while.
3. I spend the afternoon stretched out on the floor in front of the stove, listening to Joanna Newsome. The dog and cats take it in turns to lie across the newspaper and when they do, I stare out of the window at the bare branches silhouetted against the brilliant blue sky.
4. She takes the blue rubber bone from me and carries it to her bed. She puts it down matter-of-factly at one end and looks at me with disdain: “the blue bone is clearly for later, mum, clearly”.
5. Tom arrives at bedtime and as I lead him through the porch, I explain that Lily can be nervous around new people so let her come to him rather than crowding her. Or rather I start to explain because before I can finish, she’s launched herself at him, tail wagging, the happiest, most welcoming dog in the world.