I had grown used to thinking of him as indestructible, in spite of himself. I called him Quincy the Wonder Dog, not because he was wonderful (although he was), but because it was a constant source of wonder that he managed for almost 12 years to survive his own misadventures. Today, his strength and exuberance and penchant for getting into trouble all came to an end due to untreatable cancer.
I’ve written many words about Quincy on this blog and those of you who follow along are familiar with the stories. My heart is too heavy tonight, my vision too blurred by tears, to tell more. My daughter said it best earlier on her FaceBook status:
“RIP Quincy, you were the best and silliest dog, I love you and miss you so much.”
Yes, so do I.
KD James 
Aw, crap. I’m sorry to hear this. He looks like a lovely fella too.
LikeLike
Thank you, David. He was the best “bad dog” ever.
LikeLike
Such sad news – I’m so sorry for your loss.
LikeLike
I will miss hearing of his adventures. There are tears here too. Condolences for everyone who loved him.
LikeLike
I’m so sorry. He was a good boy.
LikeLike
Hugs to everybody.
LikeLike
They say that life = love and memories. If so, Quincy will live on in many hearts for years to come.
LikeLike
Thank you, everyone, for the kind words. I’m surprised by how much comfort they give. As someone who has often been on the giving end of such comments, you begin to wonder after a while just how effective they are, whether they make a difference. They do. Thank you.
LikeLike
I am so sorry! It was a shock to realize he was getting older. I never got to meet him, but I could picture him so clearly as a young dog enthusiastically eating Kleenex and looking for new ways to make his humans’ lives more fun, i.e. filled with interesting challenges.
LikeLike
Thanks, Merry. Yes, he did excel at making our lives more, ahem, interesting. And challenging. But honestly, he was only doing what all dogs are supposed to do: making his people happy. It just so happened that what made MY children happy was “bad dog” behaviour. He knew darn well that they LOVED IT when he’d sink his teeth into a throw pillow and race around the house with it, the kids laughing and screaming as they chased him and “tried” to recover it.
Although, that doesn’t explain the rocks he ate. Or the poisonous plants. Or the box of tampons. Or that incident with the bees. Or that time he vaulted over the railing of the one-story-off-the-ground deck rather than use the stairs. Sigh.
Yes, that dog earned his moniker. I’m going to miss him.
LikeLike