Week five of the serum. She opened the boot, fully prepared to lift her golden retriever like she'd been doing for months.
He looked at the bumper. She saw him calculate it. And then—he jumped. Not gracefully, but he did it. "I stood there in my driveway with my hand over my mouth," she said.
The next Saturday, he made it all the way up himself. By week eight, he was jumping in before she even got the boot fully open.
This isn't about adding years to your dog's life. It's about adding life to your dog's years.
It's about Saturday mornings and sunrise hikes. The way they used to greet you at the door. The sound of their tail thumping against the wall.
One owner said: "I think about how close I came to accepting that our adventure life was over. How I'd started looking at photos from our hikes like they were memories of a different dog. And then I think about how many Saturday mornings I would have missed."
Every day you wait is another day of collagen loss. Another night of 3 AM scratching. Another morning where they can't jump in the car.
Or it's the day you rebuild the scaffold.
The day you get your dog back. Not the two-year-old version. But the version that still has mountains to climb.
That's what collagen does. It doesn't turn back time. It gives you more of it.