My mom left for the vet's a little while ago with Winston. I wanted to go, too, but mom said she'd rather be alone with him. Last night he flooded the bed in his sleep, and this morning he took a terrible turn. He wouldn't move, wouldn't eat, and while he was just as ill as he had been the last time he'd done this, he didn't have that usual "don't worry guys, I'll pull through!" look in his eyes anymore. This time it was just a look of complete sorrow and sadness, and we knew we couldn't keep on trying to help him to no avail anymore and that today was his time to go. He was with us for almost four years -- undoubtedly the best four years of his life. We got him March 27th, 2005. He would have been 11 years old in June. That's pretty good for an older rescued Dobe! He was a fantastic dog. He had his quirks, but he was the sweetest, kindest dog there ever was. Nothing ever bothered him and he took everything in stride. He changed so many people's minds about Dobermans, and was always the favourite dog of visitors/friends. He was the first dog we'd ever adopted, and because of him, we'd gladly do it again. While today is incredibly sad for all of us, having lost a wonderful member of the family, I have to say that it is also the easiest loss we've ever had. There are no regrets, no "what ifs"... nothing like that. We've done everything that we could do for him, he lived 8 months longer than expected, and we knew without a doubt this morning that putting him down was for the best.