It's 4 a.m. ...

... Do you know where your dog is?

Actually, I did know where my dog was at 4 a.m. a couple of mornings ago. She was standing at the front door, barking her head off. When I heard her, I hopped out of bed and headed for the stairs, hoping I wasn't too late.

I was.

The living room carpet was dotted with, well, let's just say the dog had had diarrhea since the night before and had already given our carpet steamer a serious workout. Silly me, I thought she was over her intestinal distress. But no.

Two days earlier I had taken our 17-year-old cat to the vet for her annual checkup. As usual, she freaked out. This time was extra special, though: It took three adults to hold her down while the vet gave her her rabies shot. I was not one of them, by the way. Having already had my hand bloodied by this tyrannical old feline, twice, I was excused. In fact, the vet thought it best that I step out into the lobby and wait. Several loud screeches later (from the cat, that is), the deed was done and we were on our way.

Back to 4 a.m. ... As I was scrubbing the living room carpet by hand (because I didn't want to wake everyone else up), I thought about the dog. I thought about the cat. I doubt they were thinking about me.

So it goes.

I've brought animals into my life because I appreciate their companionship, because I don't know whether I would like my life as much if I didn't have pets in it. I would, no doubt, have cleaner carpets and fewer scratches on my hands if I didn't have pets. But it sure would be quiet around here.

Especially at 4 a.m.