And Moe. Moe has taken it upon himself to be my nighttime companion. Whether it's just a trip to the potty or downstairs to read or knit, he rouses himself out of bed to follow with nary a whimper or a dirty look. (The terrier people know what I'm talking about--Moe can give dirty looks better than a thirteen year old girl when he's disgruntled.)
It's kind of sweet, really. In days of old, Porter would have followed me about the house while my selfish, little terrier stayed snuggled under the covers. These days I'm not sure she even hears me get up, but Moe has apparently decided it's his job to supervise me now. In his typical "go big or go home" way, he's doing a pretty darned good job.