Quino, a six-year-old Labrador trained to find survivors in disaster zones, died in Valencia after returning from a mission in Venezuela with unexplained hemorrhages. His sudden decline left veterinarians and his handler searching for answers as support poured in from across Spain.
Quino spent his last days in the intensive care unit at the veterinary clinic of the Universidad Católica de Valencia. After weeks of internal bleeding that doctors could not stop, the six-year-old Labrador—known for his work in disaster zones—died with more questions than answers surrounding his illness.
His handler, firefighter Pancho Gerber, watched Quino's health deteriorate quickly after they returned from Venezuela. The two had just finished a demanding mission with the Intervención, Ayuda y Emergencias (IAE) canine unit, searching for survivors after the June earthquake in La Guaira. Quino had already built a reputation for his work in places like the mudslides of Petrópolis and the earthquakes in Turkey. He came home to Spain as a decorated rescue dog, flying in the cabin with his own seat and air conditioning.
According to several Spanish-language outlets citing IAE, Quino suffered irreversible kidney damage as confirmed by his final medical tests.
The relief of returning home did not last. Within days, Quino developed persistent nosebleeds that no one could explain. He received transfusions, corticosteroids, and care from specialists in internal medicine, ophthalmology, and surgery, but nothing worked. Blood tests, ultrasounds, and CT scans all came back normal. Gerber sent more than 16 emails with medical records to veterinarians worldwide, but no one could pinpoint the cause.
As Quino's condition worsened, he stopped eating, lost the ability to move, and began rejecting transfusions. His kidneys and lungs started to fail as the bleeding continued. Theories ranged from asbestos exposure to a tropical tick-borne infection or leishmaniasis, but none matched his symptoms. The other two dogs who went to Venezuela—Otto and Ron—remained healthy. Only one similar case was reported in Badajoz, where another rescue dog died of internal bleeding after a mission, but no cause was found there either.
As word spread online, offers of help and donations poured in, coordinated by the IAE. Despite the best veterinary care and international attention, Quino's decline could not be stopped. The response showed the strong bond between rescue dogs and their handlers, and how much the public values their work. For Gerber, the hardest moment came after two months of sleepless nights and failed treatments: deciding to let Quino go, ending a partnership built in some of the world's most dangerous places.
The IAE organization publicly thanked supporters for their donations and support for Pancho Gerber, highlighting the widespread public response and fundraising efforts for Quino's veterinary treatment.
Quino's death is a loss for his handler and for Spain's rescue community. His case shows the limits of veterinary medicine when faced with rare, possibly mission-related illnesses, and highlights the risks these animals face in their work. The unanswered questions about what killed Quino—despite every effort—raise concerns about health protocols for rescue dogs sent abroad. For now, Quino is remembered for his service and the sacrifices made by working animals, and his story points to the need for better protection and follow-up for those who serve in disaster zones.
