Sheriff's department bids farewell to beloved 'bomb dog'

For years, Quincy stood by the deputy's side, unwavering in the face of danger.

The scrappy black Labrador would enter crime scenes already in work mode, snout to the ground, searching for firearms, shell casings and traces of gunpowder. He could detect dozens of different explosives with just one sniff, authorities said.

This week, the King County's Sheriff's Office bid farewell to its first official "bomb dog." Quincy, 12, who spent six years on the force, died Monday of natural causes, said Sgt. John Urquhart.

Quincy went to the most rigorous school to become specialized in finding explosives, Urquhart said. He was certified nearly a decade ago by the federal Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives (ATF) and came to the sheriff's office in 1999 as the only ATF-trained explosives dog in the Pacific Northwest.

Nationwide, he was one of only 18 canines who earned such a distinction, Urquhart said. Dogs must be recertified every year to remain on the job. As part of the test, they have to detect various explosives. Miss one, and the dog is out.

Quincy passed every time.

He belonged to now-retired Deputy John Decker. In 1999, Decker spent 10 weeks at Ft. Royal, Va., training alongside Quincy in preparation for future assignments.

When Decker drove back to Seattle with his new four-legged partner, Urquhart set up a news conference.

It was Jan. 12, 2000. Urquhart remembered Quincy as "a typical black Lab. When he wasn't working, he was just bouncing off the walls."

Being trained by the ATF meant his first allegiance was to the federal government. Oftentimes, Quincy and Decker were deployed for security measure by federal law enforcement agencies. They went to the Rose Bowl and Rose Parade.

In 2002, Quincy's bomb-sniffing talents got him a trip to the Winter Olympics in Salt Lake City. He also provided protection for presidents Carter and Clinton, among others.

In addition to hunting down explosives, Quincy was equally enthusiastic in his search for food, Urquhart said.

To reinforce his training, Quincy only received food when he found an explosive. This forced him to get clever.

Whenever Quincy came to visit Urquhart, for instance, the dog would nudge Urquhart's gun holster and look up with big eyes to Decker for a treat.

The trick never failed.

"He was working the system," Urquhart said. "It was really cute."

In 2006, age caught up with him. He was slowing down, and years of an intense career had taken their toll. It was time for Quincy to retire.

He spent the last two years with Decker and his wife, Kathy. Soon, another dog took over his job.

But no one forgot him.

"Rest in peace, Quincy," Urquhart wrote in a news release. "You will be missed."

Sonia Krishnan: 206-515-5546 or skrishnan@seattletimes.com