My pug is now 11 years old, he's had two discs removed, survived a cancerous tumor, and gone almost completely blind in one eye. I adopted him when he was three months old, and, since I work from home, we don't spend much time away from either other. He's snuggling in his bed next to me as I write this. We've been through a lot together, and, as any animal lover will concur, he's family. He's healthy and full of life, and referred to as my "child" by most people who know me.
So it's with great consternation that strangers on the street often discuss his age and fitness as if they are discussing a plant on its last leaf. My dog can't understand them, but I can, and being reminded of my pug's imminent demise or tragic old age is not only unnecessary, it's as insensitive as me commenting on their tragic hair and imminent fashion sense demise--I may have gone there once or twice.
Herewith, the seven things you should never say to a senior dog owner because, we, like our dogs, have feelings too.
How Long Do They Live?
Whenever I hear this, usually from a Mom or Dad, I'm tempted to comment back, "I don't know, but your child is looking a tad flush. Tell me, is Scarlet Fever making a comeback?" Time with our animals is precious and far too short; let's enjoy it while it's here and not dwell on the inevitable. What most people who ask this question don't realize is that I've probably already heard the question at least once that day, so it becomes a meditation on mortality.
Oh, the Poor Thing. He's So Old.
It's meant to be kind, but seriously? The statement is generally followed by a "keep your chin up, mister, you're a saint for taking care of the fragile skeleton" pity look. My dog walks three times a day, we play fetch, we go to the park, he plays with other dogs on the street, loves tug-o-war, and watch-dogs my apartment every time a strange noise is heard or that scary vacuum cleaner goes on a rampage.
I don't think of my senior dog as sad or pathetic or unlucky because of his age. He's living, I hope, a great life, one that is enriched each new day we spend together. Sensitive people (usually dog owners themselves) say, instead, something along the lines of "He looks great," and leave it at that. When I meet a dog older than mine, I tend to add, "Something to aspire to," leaving everyone involved in smiles.
You Should Get Him Another Dog for Companionship.
First off, it's never wise to offer unsolicited advice to a dog owner, in the same way it's insensitive to offer unsolicited advice to the parent of a child. Anytime my pug has a little trouble walking or has visibly injured himself, the neighborhood turns into a collective Dr. Oz--never mind that I'm already aware of the situation and have taken proper steps to ensure his recovery.
But telling me he needs another dog only reveals ignorance. As I wrote previously, my dog and I spend an enormous amount of time together, and he's extremely possessive. While he loves it when other dogs come over to play, after about an hour or so, he'll retreat to his bed, or sit next to me, to let me know they're in his territory, and, well, not to push it. True experts have told me that, were I to get another dog, he would be emotionally devastated by the attention I would have to lavish on the newcomer. It would break his heart, and since he's with me so much of the time, there's no reason for it to begin with. I am his companion.
He Needs "Fill in Blank Here" Type of Food, Vitamins, Now!
I don't tell people what food to give their kids, or themselves, and it's not a stranger's business to tell me which food is necessary for my dog's older health. Were I to ask for an opinion, that would be different, but I only ask people I know and trust. Unfortunately, people who make this kind of statement are usually brazen: If you don't renounce your dog's diet on the quick and take down the name and location where the perfect food can be found, they'll get aggressive and start telling you that you're neglecting your dog and his health, and that, basically, he's got one or two good days left and you're to blame. Have a nice walk! 
Have You Had Him Blessed Him Yet?
"No, because, like me, he worships Satan," is my steadfast answer to this question, which I find offensive on about 20,000 levels. Religion causes enough problems with the human race, and it's certainly not something I'm going to extend into the canine world. I have no objection to anyone who has their animal blessed, but insisting I do it is just salt to the senior dog's wounds. And a curse on my own belief system.
Will Your Next Dog Be a Pug, Too?
"I don't know, Ma'am, will your next husband also wear a bad hairpiece?" This question always sounds like it's coming from a used-car salesman trying to get me hooked on one of his favorite models. I don't dwell on what kind of dog I will get in the future, should I get one at all; I concentrate on the here and now. That's not an animal lesson; that's a life lesson.
He Must Have Been Cute When He Was Little.
I'm fairly certain 99 percent of the people who say this have never had an older dog. When we love our animals, raise them, see them go from precious pup to elder statesman, all we see is their magnificence. They become old souls, more endearing and adorable with advanced age. I look at my dog every morning and see the most loveable, precious, and, yes, beautiful creature on earth. I wouldn't have it, or him, any other way.
Photo of my dog, DJ, by Piero Ribelli.