The sky is darkening, the waves crash on the beach and seagulls swirl in the winter chill. But inside Erica Longdon’s Cornish home, everything is cosy.

The log burner is roaring, tea and mince pies are on the table, Erica sits cross-legged on a little pink cushion, picks up her book and everyone snuggles close.

‘Are you sitting comfortably?’ she asks Molko and Winnie, Quito, Hagar, Lady, Brook and Pipkin. And they look back at her eagerly, ears pricked, tongues hanging out, tails thumping gently on the rug.

‘Then I will begin…’

So she lifts her book, all ready with her best story-telling voice.

‘Once upon a time, in a land far away over the ocean, a little scruff with wiry, white fur, black shiny eyes and the cutest wagging tail was found…’

But alas, already her audience has zoned out. Molko has a surreptitious scratch. Pipkin licks her own bottom. Brook the golden retriever starts woofing, very loudly. And Hagar, well, you get the gist.

Don’t worry, you haven’t gone barking mad. This is a story time session for dogs. Erica, 70, is reading from her new book, Bedtime Tails for Dogs, which she reminds me, several times, is a book for dogs, not about them, and is causing quite a stir in local doggy circles.

Because, apparently, just like children, dogs love listening to stories. Particularly if they’ve had a ruff day (sorry).

In one Devon library, there is already a doggy reading group. Some animal rescue shelters have readers in to calm the inmates. And Erica herself hosts regular story time sessions at her local café.

‘We take our dogs for granted. We’re forever on our screens – even on walks. I see people on the beach with their dogs, still not engaging,’ she says. ‘Just like anyone, dogs need calm one-on-one time, to feel happy and loved. And reading to them is a perfect way of making them feel the centre of our lives.’

So I’m ashamed to admit that, while my dog Pipkin, a very bouncy Jack Russell cross, has watched an awful lot of telly – all 10 series of Friends, an awful lot of Stanley Tucci cookery shows, most of the Marvel films and more News at Ten than she’d choose – I have never read her a single book.

Such canine neglect! Such terrier-ble care! Clearly, it’s time to broaden her horizons.

So what better way than joining one of Erica’s canine literature gatherings?

Which turn out to be rather livelier – and a lot noisier – than any book group I’ve ever been to.

We kick off with a lot of sniffing, stroking, licking, and two sets of instructions from Erica.

One for humans – ‘get comfortable, make the room cosy, turn off your screens and focus on your dog.’

And a second set for the dogs – ‘make sure you’ve been outside, cuddle up, try and calm down a bit and just listen to your human.’

Which goes pretty well for Winnie the rough-haired Jack Russell – what a little joy she is! But Pip’s having none of it and, for big Brook, the whole thing is just one very loud barkathon.

Maybe the dogs are a bit too excitable and cabin fevery after travelling hours (some of us) in the torrential rain to fully embrace the beauty of Erica’s syntax. Or more likely we humans are.

Because our furry friends limpet off our moods.

‘Your dog will pick up on everything from your body,’ explains lovely Erica over the din. ‘Your scent. Your energetic vibration. How your voice sounds. Whether you’re relaxed or stressed. We just need to relax.’

So, as we pause for a minute and wait for everyone to calm down a bit, she and I chat. About her long career in TV and radio, the terrible car accident that damaged her back and saw her train as a Reiki master, and her subsequent shift to become a psychic, angel communicator and ‘dragon whisperer’ – which I feel is a tale for another day.

But most of all, she tells me how her doggy story telling started 16 years ago, when she first got Alfie – her beloved and very teeny Papillon / King Charles cross, who died last December and to whom the book is dedicated.

‘He is now over the rainbow bridge,’ she says quietly. ‘It was very hard, just before Christmas. But he was 15 and it was his time.’

When she first found him, poor little Alfie was a puppy-farmed scrap of a thing shivering on the floor.

‘He was in a terrible state and terrified of men. Goodness knows what had happened to him,’ she says. ‘It took me years to get him straight.’

They always had a close bond – ‘I’d look at him and think something and he’d do it’ – but she soon realised that reading to Alfie, particularly stories, made him happier.

‘I’d make up all sorts of tales and it was so calming to him. He’d just settle down and listen, and I’d think, ‘how much are you getting from this?’

It also got her wondering why there were no books for dogs. No dog tales just for them. Particularly when so many of us love our dogs as much as – sometimes more than – our children.

‘There were a few bits and bobs, but no one had really gone for it,’ she says. ‘Not proper books.’

She’s right. There are a couple, but they look more like children’s books – Erica is very firm about her book being very much aimed at adults and their dogs.

There’s an audio book called Teddy and Stanley’s Tall Tale, read by the celebrated actor Simon Callow, to help dogs through the stress of bonfire night.

And a lovely video on YouTube of Andrew Cotter, the Scottish sports commentator who became an online hit with his dogs in lockdown, telling a spooky story to his Labradors Mabel and Olive, that is definitely worth a watch.

But that’s about it.

Erica began her creative process by consulting an animal communicator pal in America.

‘I wanted to know, are they actually listening – are they really understanding?’

And are they? I look at Pipkin, busy trying to squeeze under the sofa to retrieve a ball.

‘Of course! But I also learned that, when you’re writing, you’ve got to use words that create the picture in your heart’s mind, that feeling in your heart, because animals pick up on the imagery, rather than words.’

According to Erica, as we read out loud and relax, so our scent changes, and this is what the dog tunes in to.

All summer, she practised her stories on visiting dogs in her local beach cafe.

‘Some were very hyper – they were on holiday and not interested,’ she says. ‘But some would just sit and listen, so I used them to tell whether I’d got the stories right.’

Apparently, her most descriptive passages – with a good dollop of alliteration and onomatopoeia – worked best.

I know, I know, of course it all sounds a bit daft!

But before we cock-a-poo at it, we should remember that dogs are not quite like other animals.

They can do far, far more than scratch and wag. They can pick up on our moods and stress levels. They can detect cancer and tell when diabetics have low sugar levels. They can even predict epileptic shocks by picking up on our body’s vibration. Oh yes, and (apparently) they can count.

So you’d think that absorbing a few beautifully written words about a naughty squirrel should be well within their canine capabilities.

It is also way more than just a cosy treat. Because as Erica saw with little Alfie, it can actively help with bonding and behavioural issues.

The American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals has long used volunteer readers to help traumatised and abused dogs bear human contact again. And quite a few dog shelters there already have reading programmes where school children will come and read to the furry inmates. 

‘These dogs have lost everything that matters most to them – the human that cared about them. It’s really important to get dog reading groups going for them,’ says Erica, who is already in discussion with Battersea Dogs Home to about launching a potential doggy reading programme here.

But, anyway, back to our session. Are the dogs sitting comfortably?

To be completely honest, not really.

In fact, only Molko does what he’s told. And so he should – he’s a former Crufts competitor who’s been taught to sit and stay and can even jump onto the back of sofas on command.

The rest are all over the place.

Hagar bounces on and off his owner’s lap like a jack-in-the box. Quito the black lab slinks about like a glossy dark beauty. Brook barks and barks and barks and barks. Pip minesweeps the floor for crumbs. It’s only little Winnie who seems ready to listen.

But Erica isn’t daunted.

‘Individual attention is that your dog wants more than anything, and the longest story will only take five minutes, she says firmly.

So when they’ve all gone, and it’s just me and Pipkin and Erica, we have another go with Erica reading Buster’s Tail – about a Jack Russell and his obsession with squirrels – and Pip (also obsessed with squirrels) curled up on my lap in front of the fire.

And I promise, she really did seem to be listening – ears cocked, tail quivering, head on one side as she eyed Erica beadily.

In fact, much to my surprise, I’ve found myself reading to her a couple of times since. Just me and Pip, in a cosy chair – stories about Sprockers and Golden Retrievers and a promise of a very juicy bone.

And, perhaps I’m imagining it, maybe I’m dreaming, but I do think she hasn’t been quite as badly behaved as usual. I’ve rather enjoyed it, too.