For the past few weeks, more like the last several months, he has been struggling with his health. It turns out his kidneys were giving out; I learned this is somewhat of a death sentence. Kidney failure in dogs is much more swift and severe than it is for cats, something I also have experience with.
’
’
’’s obituary—several weeks ago when he started on the decline. After the shock of the death sentence diagnosis (kidney failure), I went through deep grief and sadness—and he was still alive! I kept myself from going “there," to the future. It was somewhat absurd, after all he was still here and although not in his usual capacity, still living and breathing and being the sweetest dog ever.
I found Quincy at the Boulder Valley Humane Society on a Saturday in November of 2008. I wasn’t actively looking for a dog, yet I was looking for a dog. I knew I wanted a cattle dog, and there were two that day at the shelter. It was clear from the moment I met him that he and I would be together. I guess you’d call it “love at first sight.”
For all of these years, Quincy would always go looking for me in
our condo if I was away from him in another room for any longer than a few minutes. In his last few weeks, I would count 10 seconds or less and he would appear, wondering where I had run off to. During his bound-to-fail convalescence, it was I who could not leave his side.
 |
| Toward the end, all I could get him to eat were plain hamburgers. So—he got hamburgers! |
Quincy wasn’t a lover of much else other than me. He did love pig kneecap bones (I know—eww, gross!), but he wasn’t a dog who loved to play. He would sniff other dogs but never bonded with any, and the person he always wanted to be next to—even at the dog park—was me. I don’t take this personally, per se, cattle dogs are known for connecting with one person for their whole life. I am blessed to have been his person.
For any of you who knew “Q” you know—as I do—what a sweet, calm, lovely being he was. I will miss our daily walks; his incessantly licking the carpet where (probably) one of the cats threw up; his getting into the litter box if I forgot to close the bathroom door when I left home; same with the garbage in the kitchen—if I’d forgotten to put it out of reach, he loved to go through that and find any goodies that were there (especially old cat food). I will miss being sought out in our home. I will miss the way he would lay his head on my leg or arm or whatever part of me was close by. I will miss seeing him waiting for me when I come home. He was always in a certain spot where he could see me entering through the front door. I will miss him. His heart. His gentle energy and nature. His presence in my life. I will miss you Quincy Blu—till the end of my days.
Recently a friend’s 17 year old doggie also passed away. I told her in an email when she said she couldn’t stop crying, I hope you find light in the darkness. Crying is soothing to our souls.
Don’t look for an end to the tears, let them take you where you need to go. I will take my own advice because right now I can’t stop the river of tears from falling down to the ground. I love you, sweet sweet Quincy Blu.
If you want to read more about Quincy, see:
- Quincy Blu: My newest pack member (there’s a link to a great little video of him from the rescue)
- Moving Through Loss for any of you who may be experiencing a loss—whatever kind. I’ve updated that article with information about a book I have found helpful as I grieve the loss of my sweet pup
- Doglessness has its moments for a little update since his passing
- My 4-Legged Family—scroll down to his section (currently unavailable)
Quincy Blu: My newest pack member
