Cherishing the Precious Years Together

This week Sam turned 14.

It is a milestone that carries both joy and sadness. Joy because he is still here with me, calmer and more at ease with life than in his younger years. Sadness because time feels shorter now, and because his world is changing in ways that remind me daily of his age. Living with an older dog is about adapting, noticing, and finding ways to keep their lives meaningful even as their bodies and senses slow down.

The contrast in my household could not be clearer. Lochy, my one-year-old cocker spaniel, is full of energy and curiosity. She thrives on long walks and constant activity. Sam no longer chooses to come with us on walks, and insisting would feel unkind. Yet his mind still craves engagement, and his heart still wants connection. That tension sometimes leaves me feeling torn, but it also pushes me to think carefully about what each of them truly needs.

Adapting Daily Life

For Sam, play has always been important. That has not changed, but the way we play has. I have never been an advocate of relentless ball throwing. The sharp turns, sudden bursts of speed and abrupt stops are hard on joints at any age, and especially so for a dog with arthritis. With Sam I have always preferred throwing toys into long grass. It slows the game, makes him search, and reduces strain on his body. These days I use soft toys more often, because they travel less far and do not roll unpredictably. He still gets the excitement of the chase and the reward of the find, but without the same physical pressure. It is a balance between joy and protection.

As a collie, Sam’s instincts remain strong. His intense eye and stalking behaviour are woven into who he is. With his favourite Piggy toy I encourage gentle herding-style games where he can hold focus, move with control and show the behaviours that make sense to him. They give him purpose without exhausting him. Our dogs’ instincts do not disappear with age. They just need to be expressed in ways that suit their changing abilities.

Perhaps the most valuable outlet for Sam is scent work. It engages his brain and body together, gives him purpose and leaves him satisfied in a way few other activities can. Sometimes that means hiding a Kong or scattering food in the grass. Sometimes it is a catnip toy, or a game of hide and seek where he tracks us down. For dogs who have never tried scent work, food searches are a brilliant starting point. A handful of kibble scattered in the garden or a short trail of treats leading to a hidden pile can be just as enriching as finding a toy. Scent activities are flexible, accessible and easy to adapt for almost any dog, and they allow older dogs to keep doing something they love without the strain of more physical exercise.

On days when Sam is sore or has had less physical activity, I rethink how he eats. A Kong, a Toppl, scatter feeding or a small smorgasbord of flavours and textures can all make meals more engaging. But enrichment feeding is not about making things harder for the sake of it. It needs to be genuinely enriching, not frustrating. That means considering comfort. Some older dogs find it difficult to keep lowering their heads to the ground. For them, raised feeding opportunities may be kinder. Others may struggle with puzzle feeders that require awkward movements. The goal is always to make food interesting, to provide variety and choice, but never at the cost of wellbeing.

Free Work, developed by Tilley Farm and Animal Centred Education, has also been a wonderful part of Sam’s life. It allows him to explore textures, scents and objects at his own pace, making choices without pressure. For an older dog, that autonomy is especially valuable. It helps them feel safe and in control at a time when their body may feel less reliable.

Ageing also brings subtler changes that ask for our awareness. Sam’s eyesight is weaker now. His hearing has faded. He falls into deeper sleep, and if woken suddenly he can seem disoriented. I have had to learn to move differently around him, to let him know I am there before touching, and to be patient if he does not respond immediately. He sometimes wants to keep playing, but love now means stepping in and stopping before soreness sets in later. These small adjustments have a big effect on his comfort.

Living with Sam alongside Lochy has been a lesson in contrasts. Lochy needs long walks and fast play. Sam needs thoughtful, low-impact activities that engage his mind. Meeting both needs can feel like constant switching between speeds. Some days it is tiring. Yet it reminds me that dogs are individuals, and their needs evolve over time. Our responsibility is to notice and adapt, not to expect them to stay the same.

The Precious Years

There are moments of frustration, and moments of sadness. Abilities fade. The ease of earlier years is gone. But there is also richness here. Older dogs teach us to slow down. They remind us to pay attention to the quieter joys: the way Sam settles more peacefully after a short scent game, the softness in his eyes when he chooses to rest close by, the satisfaction he still feels when he solves a puzzle. These are not small things. They are the essence of what it means to share life with an ageing dog.

Sam turning 14 has reminded me that our role as guardians is never fixed. It changes as our dogs change. What worked yesterday may not work today. But if we stay thoughtful and willing to adapt, we can give our older dogs lives that are still rich with comfort, purpose and joy. And in return they give us lessons in patience, gratitude and presence that no training course or textbook could ever offer.