I've tried to think of an nice, easy, delicate way to say this, but I can't. So I'll just blurt it out:

Dreyfus is gone.

He lived a great life, and died a good death. He died while looking at me, his grandfather, and his stepgrandmother. He was getting head/butt scratchies while Dr. Kirmayer gave him his final shot.

Dreyfus took a turn for the worse on Wednesday night. He stopped eating, didn't have the energy to walk or play, and didn't even snuggle with his normal intensity. I took him to Dr. Kirmayer on Thursday morning, and he perked up a bit after some IV fluids. Dr. Kirmayer said his blood number were in line except for his white blood cell count, and told me that it wasn't time to panic yet. But Dreyfus' upswing didn't last, and by yesterday it was clear to me that his time had come. Finally, this morning, Dreyfus had a massive seizure (the first I've ever seen during daylight hours), so I made "the call" to Dr K. Dreyfus wasn't enjoying his life, and there was no way I was going to let him suffer. My father/stepmother drove down, we all went over to Dr K's office, said goodbye, and put Dreyfus down. Dr. Kirmayer suspects the cancer had gone to Dreyfus' brain, and this was causing the seizures.

When I started this blog last September, I had no intention of the blog being "My dog's adventure with Cancer." I wanted this blog to be purely a celebration of his life, similar to other wonderful blogs such as Oliver, Daily. Alas, Dreyfus got sick the day after I started the blog. I hope everyone knows that this blog was often just a way for me to vent. Dreyfus was a happy dog, and he had a great life with me. I don't think I made him suffer. I think I did everything that I was supposed to do for him, even when it was tough, and I think Dreyfus would say that I was a good pack leader.

Rest in peace, Dreyfus. I couldn't have asked for a better buddy.