Pet Gently Homepage ad: Read This If You Have An Older Dog 👆

I bought a secondhand dog pram off Facebook Marketplace in March, for a Labrador who used to do 5 miles a day, and I still can't talk about it without welling up. £30. I collected it from a woman in Swindon. It had a plastic rain cover folded in the basket and a blanket that smelled of somebody else's dog. It stayed in the boot for 4 days because I couldn't face carrying it into the house. Because the dog it was for is Archie. And Archie is mine. I'm Betty. I'm 63, and I live just outside Cirencester with my husband David, in the cottage we moved into when the children were small. Archie came to us as a puppy, all paws and ears. He's 10 now. He's black with a grey chin, he leans on your legs when he wants something, and he has never once forgiven the postman. For 8 years, Archie and I have walked the loop. That's our name for it. Down the lane, along the river, up past the cricket ground and home by the church. Just under 2 miles. Half an hour if nothing catches his nose. An hour if something does. Twice a day. 7:10 in the morning and 6:15 at night. I worked it out once. It's well over 5,000 walks. I'm the sort of person who works these things out. I need you to understand what the loop is, because the loop is the whole story. When I retired, the days went very quiet, very quickly. The loop is what got me dressed and out of the door. Archie needed to go, so I went. It's where I learned which gardens have cats and which gates to cross the road for. It's where I've chatted about the weather with the same man by the cricket pavilion for 6 years and never once asked his name. It was ours. It was the best hour of my day, and I don't mind saying so. Then, about 2 years ago, the loop started getting shorter. It didn't happen overnight. That's the part I want you to hear. None of it happened overnight. It started at the hill up past the cricket ground. A proper climb, steep enough to feel in your chest. One morning Archie got to the bottom and stopped. He looked up it. He looked at me. And he turned round. I told myself he'd caught a scent. A rabbit, probably. The next morning he did it again. Within a few weeks we'd stopped doing the hill. Just the flat. Down the lane, along the river and back the way we came. I told myself he didn't mind. I needed to believe that. Then the mornings changed. He'd get his front end up and his back end just wouldn't follow. 3 goes before he was standing. Then his back legs started to shake if we stood too long at the kerb. Then the stairs. He'd stand at the bottom, look up, and decide it wasn't worth it. He'd slept across our bedroom door every night for 8 years. That winter he started sleeping by the back door instead. We took him to Dr Henderson, who's seen Archie since he was a puppy. I think you know what he said. "He's getting older, Betty. It's wear and tear." Wear and tear. As if he were a pair of wellies. We came home with a bottle of liquid and a little syringe to squirt it on his food, and advice to keep his weight down. Both fair enough. The liquid took the edge off, and I was grateful for it. But I tried everything else as well. I want you to know that. A tub of joint chews from the pet shop every month. When those did nothing, the big-name tub they sell on the counter at the vet's. A joint powder off Amazon at £12 a pouch that sat on his dinner until he ate round it. An orthopaedic bed. A raised bowl. A ramp for the boot, because he couldn't make the jump any more. Hydrotherapy at £35 a session. He loved the pool. I couldn't see a scrap of difference on dry land. We stopped after 8. The liquid worked, then faded. A stronger dose. Worked, then faded. Dr Henderson suggested the monthly injection at the clinic, about £60 a time. The first one gave us 5 good weeks. Then it didn't. By Christmas we were doing a quarter of the loop. Down to the bench by the river and back. By March we weren't doing the loop at all. I'd stand on the back step with my tea while Archie pottered round the garden for 10 minutes. That isn't a walk. That's a wee. Archie knew the difference. At 7:10 every morning he'd go and stand at the gate, out of 8 years of habit, and look down the lane. Then he'd look at me. So I bought the pram. My thinking was that he could still come round the loop. He could still smell the river and hear the cricket, even if his legs couldn't take him there. David thought I'd lost my mind. He came anyway. The first time we pushed him round, a woman I half know from the WI leaned over and said, "Oh, bless him, how lovely." I smiled and said something polite. Then I got home, put the pram in the shed and cried until my head ached. This is a dog who used to tow me up that hill. And I was wheeling him past it like the weekly shop. That night I rang my sister, Pauline. She's 67, a retired nurse, and she has no patience for self-pity, including her own. I told her all of it. She let me get to the end. "Betty," she said. "Do you remember what my physio told me when my knees were going?" I did, roughly. She'd been taking glucosamine for years and her knees had kept getting worse anyway. "He said the glucosamine was fine. It was just only ever doing one job. A knee needs the cushion fed, the joint kept oiled and the soreness calmed, all at the same time. Look after one and ignore the other two, and you keep going backwards." Then she said, "What's actually in Archie's tubs?" I didn't know. I'd never once turned one round. "Have a look," she said. "But do it now. Not next spring. Whatever's left in that joint is what you've got to work with. The longer you leave it, the less there is." I put the phone down, went to the cupboard and lined every tub up on the kitchen table. What I found made me cross in a way I still haven't quite got over. Nearly every one of them was built on the same couple of ingredients. Glucosamine and chondroitin, sometimes with MSM. Good ingredients. But they all look after the same thing. The cushion. So I read up on how a dog's joint actually works, and it's exactly what Pauline's physio said. There's the cartilage, the cushion on the ends of the bones. There's the fluid that keeps the joint gliding instead of grinding. And there's the soreness. When it flares, the dog stops trusting the leg, and a dog who doesn't trust a leg stops using it. All 3 need looking after at once. Every tub in my cupboard was doing 1 of the 3 and leaving the other 2 to fend for themselves. That's what the shaking back legs were. That's what the 3 goes to stand up were. That was my dog at the bottom of a hill he used to drag me up, deciding it wasn't worth it. It wasn't wear and tear. Wear and tear sounds like the end of the road. It was a joint being looked after a third of the way. And suddenly the whole cupboard made a horrible kind of sense. The vet's liquid was doing its job. It calms the soreness, and that matters. But it does nothing for the cushion or the fluid, which is why every course worked, then faded. The tubs were the right idea. They were just doing a third of it. Here's the honest bit, the bit that made me move quickly instead of mulling it over for another 6 months. Nothing gives a 10-year-old dog his 2-year-old joints back. What you can do is look after the joint he's still got, properly, all 3 parts at once. So it all comes down to starting while there's still something there to look after. Archie was 10, stiff and slow. But he was still walking. He was still looking at that hill. There was still something to work with. If I'd waited another year, telling myself he didn't mind, I honestly don't think I'd be writing this. So I went looking for one thing that did all 3 jobs, every day, without me juggling 4 different tubs. That's how I found a small UK company making a joint chew with 13 ingredients in it. Glucosamine, chondroitin and MSM for the cushion. Hyaluronic acid and salmon oil for the fluid. Turmeric, boswellia and green-lipped mussel for the soreness. And a few more on top. One chew a day, from my palm, every morning before our walk. Archie took the first one like a biscuit and he's never turned one down since. The bag lives in the cupboard where all those tubs used to be. I didn't stop anything Dr Henderson had him on. I just added it. Week 1, nothing. I'd promised myself I wouldn't get my hopes up. I very nearly managed it. Week 2, he got up off his bed in one go. No 3 tries. I didn't say a word, in case I jinxed it. Week 3, he walked me to the bench by the river. Then past it. Week 5, he stopped at the bottom of the hill by the cricket ground. He looked up it. He looked at me. And off he went. I stopped at the top. Not for him. For me. I needed a minute, and I didn't want to cry in front of the man by the pavilion. We're 4 months in now. We do the whole loop, twice a day. 7:10 and 6:15. He takes the hill steadier than he did at 5. Not quicker. I'm fine with that. He isn't a puppy again, and I won't pretend he is. He's a 10-year-old Labrador who got a good bit of his walk back, because we started while there was still something to look after. At his last check-up, Dr Henderson watched him trot across the room and said he was moving better than he'd expected. He's happy to keep an eye on the liquid. That's his call, not mine. Archie sleeps across our bedroom door again. He brings me his lead in the mornings. He'd stopped doing that. I never told anyone how much that hurt. Last month I sold the pram on Marketplace. A woman came to collect it for her old spaniel. It took everything I had not to stand on the drive and tell her the whole story. So I'm telling you instead. If your dog is stalling at the stairs, struggling to stand or shaking in the back legs, and your walk is getting shorter while you tell yourself he doesn't mind, please don't take "he's just getting older" as the whole answer. Get your vet to look him over. Keep everything they prescribe. Then go to your cupboard and turn the tubs round. And don't wait for it to get worse, because this is the one thing where waiting really does cost you. The earlier you start, the more there is to look after. It isn't just age. It's a joint only being looked after a third of the way. It's Pet Gently's Joint Care chews. This is what Archie's on: https://www.petgently.com/pages/joint-care-offer-adv P.S. It's the small things first. Up in one go. Back on the landing. The lead in his mouth at 7:10. You won't see it happen. You'll notice it the way you notice it's still light at teatime in March. Not the change itself, just that it's been happening while you weren't looking. P.P.S. They give you 90 days to see it for yourself. If the walks don't start getting longer, you get your money back, even if you've finished the bag, and you don't have to send anything back. Nobody refunded me a single tub. P.P.P.S. What's in it: glucosamine, chondroitin, MSM, hyaluronic acid, salmon oil, turmeric, boswellia, green-lipped mussel, devil's claw, yucca, rosehip, vitamin C and vitamin E. 13 ingredients in one chew, made in small batches, which is why it sells out now and then.