Quincy is Gone

Quincy Jones Cocker Spaniel

On March 29th I came home to the signs I’ve been dreading. Quincy had gone downhill during the day and clearly did not have the strength to recover. He was still standing and walking around, although slowly and without his signature perpetually wagging tail. He was in pain. He was skinnier than ever. I called the vet and made his final appointment for that Friday.

Sleepy Quincy Cocker Spaniel

It’s been four weeks since he’s been gone. His ashes sit in a small urn by my bed. But it doesn’t feel real. Like a phantom limb, I still avoid stepping on him at his place at my feet when I get up from the sofa. I still almost call him when I let Bentley out into the yard. At night, I almost reach down to where he should be sleeping in his fluffy plush dog bed, curled up with Eden. Eden has moved to sleeping beside me on the pillow.

cat and dog cuddling

I don’t know when this feeling ends, or what happens when it does. In some ways, I don’t miss him because I don’t feel like he’s gone. At any moment, he’ll come trotting out of the next room, tail wagging, and push his head into my lap for ear rubs. But in those moments where I catch myself almost calling him in from the back yard, or summoning him for dinner, a part of me breaks all over again.

Cocker Spaniel's Last Day

I can still imagine how his round head feels when I pet him, and how he’d lean into ear rubs and groan quietly with enjoyment. I can picture him sitting up, with one paw on my knee, staring at me earnestly when he felt dinner was late. And then the happy bouncing when I would get up to feed him.

I miss him terribly. But in some ways it doesn’t hurt as bad as I expected. I know I did the right thing. I know it was his time. I know for a fast that I did the absolute best I could for him. I’m so happy that his last day was spent sun bathing in a big yard. I’m so thankful that I was able to give him a big yard for the last year of his life, as well as home made meals when the kibble wasn’t working for him. I have no regrets, except that dogs don’t live as long as we do.

Sun bathing cocker spaniel

In whatever fairy tale place our lost dogs go to, I hope he’s found Rocco and Endora, and is running and playing with them in a big sunny field.


  1. Linda Szymoniak

    I’m so sorry. It seems that so many bloggers have lost furbabies lately. My heart is with you as I know just what you are feeling. I lost three furbabies in the past two years. The hardest was my deaf hound girl, Ran, who was just five (and was diagnosed with an autoimmune disorder less than four months before I had to say goodbye). I haven’t even been able to bring myself to clean out her crate and take it down. She loved to play in there – the door would be open but she opted to take her toys inside. If my Misty, who I lost 20 years ago (she was 16) was my heart dog, Ran was my soul dog. The feelings never really go away, but it does get better. The memories stay, but the pain in your heart does fade – although it never really goes away completely. Prayers to you and your family, and for Quincy. *hugs*

  2. Caren Gittleman

    Sending you (((hugs)))) of comfort, I am so sorry. It DOES get better. The grief comes in waves….I lost my Angel Bobo in 2007 and I can STILL cry just as hard today about that loss. I am sooo, sooo sorry


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