Quincy is about a year and a half now, and always keeps us on our toes.
Last week, sometime during the night, Quincy commandeered the dog biscuit container and spent the morning vomiting up dog biscuit gruel. This morning, the tummy trouble was some string (ACK! – My biggest fear with him is eating string or yarn and developing a linear foreign body needing surgical intervention.)
breathe – breathe – breathe
Of course in Quincy’s world, everything is simple.
He is either slumbering on the choice bed in the house:
Or he is perfecting his all purpose innocent look: