I stretched, rolled over, repositioned myself, pummeled the pillow a few times for good measure, and was about to fall back asleep when Daniel began to bark.
Yes, I said BARK.
"Aaaarr rraaa raaa rraaa grrrrrr mmmb ah aaa baaaarrrrr."
Ummmm, what? I asked for clarification, which he gladly, mumbling, gave, "stop following me." What do you say to that? I just smiled to myself and let it be. I went back to sleep.
Only to be woken from a very deep sleep by this alarming sentence: "put Zoe down!"
What? What was wrong with my dog? I asked for more details. He mumbled something about pieces of her being carried away by vampires. He was apparently chasing them. Awwww. Good husband. Taking care of my poor, dismembered, doggy. How brave.
Have I mentioned I love this man? Endless entertainment. If ... a bit ... macabre this time around.