Farewell to our Emeritus Head of Security

On Friday, after a long life and in the arms of his family, Skipdog Teddy Roosevelt Badass Alvis-Gillett entered the halls of Valhalla. Our Little Man and Caperton Gillett Creative’s Emeritus Head of Security came to us thirteen years ago a grumpy 80-year-old man in the body of a three-year-old rat terrier, a disgrace to his breed as a claustrophobic earth dog with a paralyzing fear of rats. Over time, he developed a love of cuddling up all the way under the blanket and an insatiable bloodlust for ground vermin. He resented getting fixed, both relished and resented having to be the one in charge of our household, and deeply relished barking at other dogs for playing too enthusiastically. He had to sleep on the bed, and he had to do so touching both of us at the same time. He never met a sunbeam that couldn’t trap him. He loved being scratched in front of and behind his ears simultaneously and hated wearing clothes except for his skull-and-crossbones hoodie, because it was a warning to all around him that he was a badass. Thirteen years with him was not enough.

Skip is preceded in death by the countless rats, squirrels, and chipmunks he has sent to their god, and survived by a family that felt like it had too many dogs but suddenly feels like it doesn’t have enough.

In lieu of prayers for three-legged chipmunks on the other side of the Rainbow Bridge, the family asks that you pray for six-legged chipmunks, because Skip would appreciate the challenge.