My Dog Just Turned 8. What Does That Mean For His Activity Going Forward?

Adjusting To Life With An Aging Dog

Yesterday I was on a hike with Luca when we ran into a middle-aged man with his yellow Labrador puppy.

While the two Labs did their dance — sniffing, play-bowing, and jumping in circles — I asked the man how old his girl was. He beamed, ”14 months!” Just like a proud father would speak of his developing child.

Why yes, the changes happen so quickly at that age! 😂

As I laughed to myself about this exchange, he continued, “I hope she’s still hiking at 8 years old.”

Damn.

That hit me. Until then, I hadn’t really considered it, but I am lucky that Luca can still be so active with me. At 8 years old, this level of activity isn’t always guaranteed. And sometimes, I take Luca’s vitality for granted.

He still wrestles puppies to the ground and runs circles around other dogs at the park. After watching him and learning his age, the response of other dogs owners is always the same — “Wow, he plays like a puppy!”

Yeah, he does.

And that’s often how I think of him, too. But the fact is, my puppy is getting older. And to avoid that truth or to think anything otherwise is a disillusion that could ultimately put him in danger.

The perfect example of this came last summer during our stint in Montenegro.

We set out to hike Bobotov Kuk in the Dinaric Alps. Standing at 2,525 meters (8,278 feet) in elevation, Bobotov Kuk is the highest peak in Montenegro. 12+ kilometers through variable terrain, with boulder-hopping, cable passages, and scrambles included.

It was a difficult hike for a dog, no doubt.

But a younger Luca would have smashed it out of the park. This is a dog that’s hiked through the Swiss, Austrian, and German Alps. He’s done multi-day hikes in Norway and torn through the Scottish highlands. I didn’t give it a second thought.

Luca in Switzerland, 2020

But halfway through the hike in Montenegro, it was clear we were in a different position. Though we made it through safely, my poor boy struggled the entire way down from the summit, and we completed the hike 3 hours later than expected.

That was the first time I was truly confronted by his aging.

When I reflected back on the hike, I realized that my expectations of him were too high. We hike all the time, but the last time he had done a hike of comparable difficulty, he was only three years old — not seven-going-on-eight. It didn’t help that we took a wrong route, turning our 12 km hike into an 16 km extravaganza. That distance and elevation gain in one straight shot is way too much for a dog. And even if we had landed on the shorter route — he just can’t do things like that anymore.

At age 8, my dog is approaching his senior years.

Beyond his reduced hiking stamina, he’s starting to show his age in other ways. He’s also:

• Less heat tolerant

• Walking behind me on long walks

• Stiff in his gait after rising from a nap

• Tiring more quickly from duck-chase swims

• More reluctant to plunge into deep water and more often in need of my help to get out

• And after a long day of strenuous activity, he spends the entire next day in recovery

As he enters the next phase of his life, I find myself caught in constant deliberation over whether to include him or to leave him safely at home.

If I leave him behind, I feel guilty until I reach a difficult scramble, or the persistence of the beating sun confirms that I’ve made the right decision. If I bring him, I worry the entire way: about his water intake, energy level, sore paws, achey joints, and everything else.

On the one hand, I want him to live the richest, fullest, and most active life that he can. I selfishly always want him around and want to make as many memories with him as possible. But on the other hand, I don’t ever want to push his aging body too far, or run the risk that he could become sick or injured from our activities (especially in a remote area without access to emergency rescue services, God forbid).

Another layer that adds to my uncertainty is the growing discordance of our physical capabilities.

As he begins to show signs of wear and tear, I feel like I’m reaching my peak physically. I’m the strongest and fittest I’ve ever been, and I’m drawn to longer and more challenging hikes. But what my dog needs is shorter, less strenuous, low-impact activity. Less intensity, higher frequency. So I have to strike the balance of challenging us both, while recognizing that just because I can do something doesn’t meant mean that he can do it.

Even if he’s been able to do everything with me in the past.

Durmitor National Park, Montenegro, 2024

Every adventure needs to be assessed on an individual basis, with careful planning and consideration for the distance, duration, elevation gain, climate, terrain, natural resources, and more. As the limits of his physical capabilities continue to shift, so will my guidelines for when to bring him along.

Some general rules of thumb:

• Scree or gravel terrain (such as in the Dinaric Alps) is a no-go.

  • This terrain is particularly difficult for dogs. Imagine walking barefoot down a gravel driveway — ouch! The tiny rocks and pebbles also create an unsure footing, causing them to slip and slide and strain their joints. Luca’s aging mountain paws just can’t walk those paths.

• Hiking in full sun exposure for >3 hours without a lake to jump in or shady places to rest is also a no-go.

  • This is true for 21 degrees celsius (70F) and up. Spring/summer on the mountain always feels warmer. And though mountain climate is variable and unpredictable, a drop in temperature will be much better tolerated than the opposite.

• You always need more water than you think, and if your dog needs more than you can honestly carry, he just can’t come.

  • Banking on natural water sources isn’t safe or reliable. And they should never be allowed to drink from stagnant/standing water.

• If you’ve never done the hike before and you’re not sure your dog can manage it, it’s better to do it yourself first.

  • This is especially true in a foreign or unfamiliar land where you don’t know how things work or what to expect. You should assume you won’t have cell connection, access to emergency services, or access to any other resources.

I would never advise anyone to bring their dog into a dangerous or uncertain situation, but you should always be prepared for them. Better safe than sorry.

Some other things I’m doing to improve the life of my aging dog:

• Trimming the fur between his paw pads

• Keeping his nails very short (I recently switched to the Dremel and am using that every few weeks)

• Avoiding fetch on slippy surfaces

• Switching to extra thick cushiony beds

• Giving his supplements religiously

• Keeping him at a lean body weight

• Adjusting my expectations of him

That last point is the hardest one, but next to maintaining a lean body weight, it’s also the most important.

Earlier in this article, I wrote that my dog was approaching his senior years. That was honestly difficult for me to write, but he is. While he is still very healthy, active, and energetic, he isn’t as young as the once was, and that’s just a fact.

This mental adjustment is very important to make, because it changes the lens through which I’m seeing him and making decisions on his behalf. Without it, my expectations for him are too high, and I run the risk of putting him in danger.

I’m so fortunate to have a strong and active 8-year-old dog that can still go hiking with me, but if I want to keep it that way, I need to keep him safe.

Even if that means leaving a sad pair of puppy eyes behind at the front door every once in a while.

Adventure safely,

Dr. Sami

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See also:

• 3 Important Supplements I Give My Large Breed Dog Every Day (How They Work And Why I Use Them)

• What Every Pet Owner Needs to Know About Preventing Osteoarthritis

• An Arthritis Management Plan That Will Reduce Pain, Improve Mobility, And Keep Your Pet Moving Longer