"Is there really such a thing as 4:30 AM?" I rhetorically ask Sneakers, Kathy and Sue's beloved all purpose farm dog, as I fumble around trying to set the alarm clock mode on my cell phone to that number. She just sits there on the floor of the guest bedroom grinning at me while thump thumping her tail on the bed post. Probably her way, I guess, of assuring me that -- "Yes Dan, there really is a 4:30 AM. I see it every day."
"The problem is Sneakers," I continue, "when I volunteered to farm sit and take care of all you guys (horses, cats, dogs) while your mommies went on vacation my absent minded mind completely forgot to tell me that I have a 9:00 AM class at the Univ. of KY tomorrow. That's about 50 miles from here, you know. But if Kathy and Sue do it every day (their jobs are at least 50 miles away), then I can surely do it at least one day, don't you think?"
Thump thump
"Anyway Sneakers, 4:30 ought to do it for getting up. You agree?"
"thump thump"
"4:30 it is then. I imagine that that will give me plenty of time to feed you and your buddy Fay (their other beloved farm dog), feed the cats, feed the horses, turn them out to pasture, muck the stalls, shower, then hit the road and make it to class in time. Does that sound about right to you?"
"thump thump"
I've been lying here under the covers reading this book, or rather staring at the pages, waiting to get drowsy enough to put it down and try to sleep. No doubt the responsible citizen part of my mind is worried about waking up on time. I'm not sure if I set the alarm on my cell phone correctly, let alone if it will even work if I did.
O.K., now I can hardly even see the pages; so out goes the light.
By and by bizarre dreams float in and out. Sounds of bells, and the oft repeated scene of being late to class, sometimes as the teacher, sometimes as a student. I think my sleeping mind is running through every alarm clock dream that it ever had.
As my dreams are running their course, I feel like I'm being jumped on by something and that a wet something is rubbing my face. I squint open my above the pillow eye and find it staring into the grinning face of Sneakers who has her paws on my shoulder and who evidently has been licking my face.
"Good morning Sneakers. What time is it?" I ask her as I fumble for my watch which says 4:20. I roll over and catch the sound of neighing horses floating up from the barn lot saying: "Feed us. Feed us."
As it turns out, there was no need to worry about waking up in time. A reliable furry alarm clock has been on duty all along.