"QUINCY"

Trying to recall the past ten years, and the events leading up to "Quincy" and I finding each other, can be very tiring, to say the least, as you may come to understand.

Perhaps the best place to start would be with an industrial accident I was involved in that left me without sufficient oxygen for a considerable amount of time until help arrived.

This lack of oxygen caused me to lose all feeling in my fingers and toes, and also caused significant memory loss (both short and long term).

Following this accident and while recovering, we experienced a period of what it was like to be part of the growing "homeless" and "forgotten" population.

It was during this period that I found out that I wasn't legally married because the divorce papers that supposedly were filed by Rick's former wife in 1986 were never processed.

Now I find out that I'm left without a memory, a home to call my own, feelings in my fingers and toes, nor a legally married name (talk about being disabled).

I did start to regain some memory in 1993, and recall at that time, that all I really wanted that might help me get through all this "garbage" in my life was a puppy. Not just any puppy. My puppy was going to have to be a Golden Retreiver.

I don't know why I wanted a Retreiver in particular, (let alone a "Golden"), but I did - and - I knew what I was going to call the dog, be it a male or a female.

I used to daydream about all the fun the two of us would have together.

Each Mother's Day, Christmas, birthday, when asked what I wanted, I would politely mention that I would like a Golden Retreiver puppy. I was trying my best to be a perfect lady.

However after being ignored for so long I can remember forgetting that I was a "lady" and sometimes would go into a tirade about not getting what I truly wanted, so why bother asking. Having this pup was probably the most important thing in my life.

It just seemed that this obsession grew stronger as the days and the months came and went. Perhaps it was the Good Lord planting the seed in my head. "Good things come to those who wait".

I say that now becase in July of 1994, Rick, John (my son), and I drove to San Angelo, Texas to visit my mother, and "kill two birds with one stone", and do some camping while we were there.

Keep in mind that I am still dwelling on the events of the last few years that have put my live in the "sewer".

Rick and John had gone out on the lake to do some fishing when John began hearing splashing noises out of sight of the boat. He thought it might have been a fish or something, but after about 15 minutes or so, he and Rick decided to investigate the sounds.

Here they found a puppy that someone had thrown into the water, and apparently its mother frantically swimming back and forth to where the puppy was stranded, unable to get him out.

Rick and John managed to rescue the pup, and its mother, realizing the puppy was in safe hands, just ran off. No one remembers seeing her again.

They brought the pup back to the campground and after it dried off we realized that the pup was a "perfect" Golden Retreiver named "Quincy". No he didn't have tags, but I knew that that must have been his name, (remember). We did spend a few days searching the campground and notified the local police, but no one came forth to claim ownership.

When we finally packed up the car, we packed up "Quincy" as well.

Quincy has never been on a leash, nor has he ever been tethered. From that very first day he walks by my side (maybe he's afraid that I will leave him). He never goes beyond the boundries of our yard, and I swear he has never "piddled" or "messed" in the house.

Other than the grocery store or maybe the doctors office, Quincy goes where I go. If he cant go somewhere, then neither do I.

He and I are a great comfort to each other, sharing the good times with the bad.

I believe that either he is an "angel" that was sent to me, or that he was sent by the "angels" because we needed each other and are good for each other.

Quincy has to be the most unusual dog that I have ever seen. He understands everything I say (meaning he must have a vocabulary of about 2000 words).

He has about 50 assorted toys and if I tell him to get one of them, he will rummage around until he finds it.

Quincy has helped me keep my sanity through some pretty rough years, including those years that he was only a dream, because even then I knew we would be together sometime -- somehow.

Quincy does not judge me as others might. He is my "friend". I wish the world could be filled with "Quincys". It certainly would be a nicer place to live.

I love you "Quincy".

Padi Morrison