He was a terrier on a mission

We made the impossible decision to end our beloved Rumplepimple's distress last Friday. He'd progressed to the final stage of Degenerative Myelopathy, and every voice of wisdom from vets and the DM support community counseled that letting him go while some spark of dignity and joy remained was preferable to waiting for things to get even more heartbreaking.

I tend to go internal when I'm hurting, silently fumbling around to understand the boundaries of the pain. My Declan, by contrast, becomes eloquent, a fountain of words attempting to ease the agony. And so our friends and followers have heard Declan's voice, his tributes, his unwavering support of me throughout the months as I struggled to provide the physical care our pup required. But you've not heard much of my voice.

I'm still largely mute with the hugeness of the impact of this loss, which followed so quickly behind the loss of my mother, which came on the heels of moving away from what had been our home for seven years. My normal grappling with concepts through language has failed, but I need to post something, and so I write these feeble words.

Declan often says that Rumplepimple saved us. He was Declan's buddy and soul companion. He was inspiration for adventures in my kids books. He was brother to Phillip and Chicken the Cat. He partnered with Declan to be a voice of love, humor, and advocacy, reaching hearts all over the world.

He was a terrier on a mission. 

We miss him, so much.