Rupert

Rupert came to us a wriggling scrap in the spring of 2004, and left a Rupert-shaped hole in the house fifteen years later. He was daft, stubborn, and the gentlest soul we have ever known. He would lean his whole weight against your leg whenever you were sad, as if to say, I have got you. He loved the sea, hated the vacuum, and never once met a tennis ball he did not consider his life's work. He was our goodest boy. We just want the world to know he was here.