Sleep Deprived

I now join the ranks of those people- like CIA black site prisoners and new parents- who lust after a good, long old fashioned eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. I guess we are "new parents" of a sort (although I constantly maintain that I am not a "fur mother" and that our puppy is a chosen friend, not a child. I think the bond between dog and "owner" is a powerful one expressly because we are different species and speak a different language and think in different band widths. On the other hand, the case could be made that children are a very different species...) In any event, our dog is delighted to awaken us a 5:00 am or even 4:45 am. I am nostalgic for the ringing of the alarm clock.
Not that Bob and I were ever in danger of being accused of being slug-a-beds. Our alarm is typically set for six and we often wake up several minutes before it goes off. But lil' Robin the Good's internal timer is hard wired to be alert as soon as the sun starts to offer even the palest glow in the eastern sky. I calculated the other day (no mean feat for me at the best of times, but doing math when exhausted is really hard for me!) that Bob and I are surviving on about 6 hours of sleep a night... not nearly enough! It's ironic that when Jules died, I couldn't sleep and even if I did fall asleep, I'd wake up at 1:00, unable to return to sleep. At least I fall asleep just fine now, but certainly I still need more.
Robin, conversely, has her own rather attractive schedule. Wake Rita and Bob up- HELLOO!! and immediately begin prancing around, chewing socks and shoes and jumping on the bed in an enthusiastic embrace of being alive. She dances outside (with me as her foggy half dead retinue) where she enjoys a lengthy pee and a giant poop. Then she gallops inside to devour a hearty bowl of gourmet dog crunchies, plays hard with her various enormous collection of "toys" (some are primitive and some are partially deconstructed) and then collapses with her head on my stomach to sleep off the mornings excitement. I have just now managed to swallow a half a cup of coffee and she's already back to REM sleep. Bob and I have debated selecting a very pointy stick with which to poke and prod Mistress Mutt as she drifts off to sleep and keeping her awake, much as she does to us. You have to admire the zeal of the young. Every thing is new and thrilling.
Entirely unrelated is the picture of Maggie grazing, wearing her fly mask. I had promised Maggie that she'd appear in my next post and despite being an exhausted person not firing on all cylinders, I remembered to snap her picture. But it was a pleasant day!