Three Kids, Two Sticks

I was going to write a whole blog post about Quincy's life. One of my friends suggested I write a letter to Quincy and put it in her grave with her, but I couldn't bear to write it until now.
Here goes:

Dear Quincy,

Thanks for hanging out with me for the last 14 years. It's been a wild time, for sure. When we brought you home from the pet store, the whole dog-in-the-purse trend hadn't really caught on yet. I'd like to think we started it.

Thanks for coming everywhere with us- to restaurants, on crazy hiking trips, even to high school in my backpack. You were there for me when I was going through adolescence, and I'm sure your fur is partially made of my tears.

Thank you for gracefully accepting your second string spot when Hannah was born. I was so scared that you'd resent her for taking your space, but the worst thing you ever did to her was steal her spot in the bouncy seat.

Thanks for absorbing more of my tears while I was a single parent going through college. Thanks for putting up with all of the tail pulls and food-grabbing. You were (mostly) graceful about it, and I understand when you weren't.

Thank you for giving me such disgusting stories to tell, like the time you chewed up an entire trashcan's worth of used tampons and pads and then strewed the contents all over our living room floor. Or the time you ate my toddler's poop the second it landed on the floor. I appreciate grossness, and sometimes you took it to a level even I couldn't have imagined.

Thanks for taking third and fourth string to my second and third babies. They loved you, although not as fiercely as my first. Thank you for being Hannah's little companion, and for teaching her about compassion and being gentle, patience, unconditional love, and finally, about saying goodbye.

I'm sorry I wasn't a more attentive doggie-mama. Life gets in the way with three kids, a husband, and a home. I hope you know that you always had a special place in my heart, even when I didn't have the time to make a place for you in my day.

I hope your last days here were good for you. I had a good time walking you and letting you smell every leaf and pile of poop that caught your eye. You're the only one I would go to a McDonald's drive-thru for. Thanks for posing for pictures and licking my face and wagging your tail every time I walked in the room.

The vet said that your gift to us was 14 years of unconditional doggie-love, and that our gift to you was a dignified and painless end of life. It's so hard, but I know it's true. Love ya, girly.