We got the letter several days ago. Cheryl didn't have the heart to tell him, so it was up to me (as usual). And I'd been rehearsing all morning, but I just couldn't think of a good way to sugarcoat it. "Sorry, buddy," I blurted out to him as we walked back into the house, "it's time for you to get fixed."
He seemed to take it pretty well at first. After all, only a few dogs get into the breeder program. But now he won't even look me in the face. Here he is, poor guy, doing a Sit - Down like he just lost his best friend.
Update: We had dog treats at 1:30 and he licked my face. Things are looking up.