It is in the wee hours of the morning. I went to bed at eleven but could not unwind, and then when I dozed off, EG was awakened by Rocky playing with a light in his room. Once we reassured Rocky that we would definitely get him up earlier in the morning as he apparently is getting too much sleep, Penny started panting.
Penny has a delicate digestive system, and she does not work well with it. About three or four times a year, her proclivity for eating plastic bags, paper, rocks, and various other detritus causes her to become sleepless. Not to mention that the rest of us become sleepless as well. So she woke me up in the time of night in which it is difficult to discern if it is early or late, and I have been up since. After listening to her pant for an hour, I got up and sat with her in the living room. I put her back in her crate and crawled back into bed. Nice try. She started panting and whining. I got her out again, and sat with her some more, and put her back once she seemed better. Not happening. Realizing sleep was over for me (did it ever even get started?), I finally took her outside, where she got tangled around the cleanout for the septic system and tracked and tried to eat some bug, which was not what we needed. So I brought her in, tied her to my kitchen chair after she tried chasing the cat around the house and making Nash bark and tried killing the moths which were at the window and, incidentally, on the outside of the screen, which now has holes from her nails, of course.
And here I sit. I have a full day of work, an orthodontist appointment, a drum lesson, a girl scout meeting, two loads of laundry, and supper to cook, and I have had two hours sleep at the most.
But I also sit here and listen to the crickets and enjoy the breeze coming in the window, and look at the back of Penny's red head, her ears fuzzy and puppy-like, alert on the creatures of the night, and I realize that maybe sleep is over-rated.