The alarm clock

Toby stands by the bed and shakes himself, jingling his tags. I open one eye and look at the clock. As expected, it's 4:00 a.m. If it's earlier than that, I can tell him, "Too early, Tobe. Go back to bed." Sometimes this works, especially when it's before 3:30. But if it's after 4:00, and I'm not moving, he goes into Step 2 of his routine. With frequent bumps of his front feet on the side of the bed, I can hear him breathing, and sometimes he starts his own special quiet whining. Ignoring him doesn't work at all, because he's very determined--and persistent. "Time to get up, Mom. I gotta go out."

With such early morning hours, my times of waking up in the middle of the night have almost disappeared. That's one advantage, anyway, a change from the past years of having to get up, go to the computer, and play computer games to put myself back to sleep. Thanks to Toby, sleep is no longer a problem in my life. Of course, with such a schedule, naps are essential--frequently right after breakfast. Occasionally two a day. I have become "the nap-taker."

He's a very reliable alarm clock, my Toby.