Today is the 12th anniversary of 9/11. This tragedy occurred in the same year that our yellow lab, Quincy, was born so I am always aware of how many years it has been since that tragic day. I remember exactly where I was when I watched on TV as the planes crashed into the twin towers. I also distinctly remember where Quincy was. He was lying on the floor completely oblivious that the world as we all knew it was about to change. For some reason it seemed odd that he could lie there as if nothing had happened. There is something comforting about that, yet also a bit disconcerting. While he himself was unaware of pain and suffering he was the one that brought comfort to our family when his antics provided us with a laugh or we just needed a warm body to hug. He was such a sweet dog from day one until the day we said good bye to him. I always called him the perfect dog. He lived with us for all 12 years of his life and there are so many memories, and being the pure lab that he was, they all revolve around food in one way or another: He was my right hand man whenever I was in the kitchen. Always there to taste test the food, and clean up the spills. Although our family is not Catholic, one year on Ash Wednesday, Quincy decided to take a walk around the neighborhood. His nose led him to some burnt meat on a neighbor’s BBQ grill. When he returned home he had a black smudge from the grill right on his forehead. Quincy also had a unique move that we named the “toast dance”. If we accidentally burnt a piece of toast we would throw it out on the patio for him to enjoy. If he sensed that it was too hot, he would dance around it until it was cool enough to eat. When Quincy was nine we adopted another dog, who despite being 1/10 his size, was definitely the Alpha dog in the family. If he ever walked anywhere near her chew treats, she would snarl at him and he would quickly retreat. The week before we said good bye to Quincy I gave each of the dogs a bully stick to enjoy in the backyard. After a few minutes Quincy started barking. He had finished his stick and wanted hers which she had lost interest in. He was barking to ask me for permission to take it from her. Had he been a different type of dog, he would have just snatched it away and finished it before she even knew it was missing. That was our Quincy. Sweet to the end. On Aug. 5, 2013 we did not “put Quincy down”…we “sent him up” to doggie Heaven. His memory continues to provide us with comfort and laughter. Dogs live such a short time in our homes, but forever in our hearts.

Debbie S.