Every so often we make decisions that unexpectedly change our lives forever. For me, this decision came in the form of a sweet-faced beagle hound mix named Olivia Chewton John.
I adopted Olivia in March of 2020 as a sister for my current rescue, Franklin. Almost immediately, life took a turn. A lot of turns, actually. In tandem with the pandemic I experienced divorce, serious illness, depression, losing my company, thoughts of suicide and the sudden death of my father. Through it all, Frank and Livie became the reason I got up in the morning. Caring for them brought me joy and a sense of security — a reprieve from the stress of an uncertain future.
To say Livie added spirit to our home is an understatement. She was sweet, funny and wild. After spending two years on the streets of Mexico, she had a warrior soul and lived life with a mischievous enthusiasm. She ran into walls chasing lizards, launched off of my patio after squirrels, stole toys from her brother, protected the house like a two-ton dragon and always pulled in the exact opposite direction we needed to go during our walks. And, she smirked regularly. In the same moment she could frustrate me, make me laugh out loud and melt my heart.
In an amusing and divine twist of fate, I adopted Livie as I was reading "Untamed" by Glennon Doyle. While my knee-jerk reaction was to control her, I decided to embrace the wildness of my furry hellion during her second chance at life. And, after years of being small, staying quiet and playing by the rules, I would let myself be wild. In fact, Livie’s unencumbered joie de vivre was almost entirely responsible for the decision to publish my book, "F---less: A Guide to Wild, Unencumbered Freedom," which inspires women to find their freedom and joy. On the dedication page, her name, along with Glennon Doyle’s, forever memorializes her spirit. Liv knew she was supposed to die on the streets of Mexico, and she was making damn sure she made the most out of her second chance at life.
The three of us were a pack, and this pack was saving my life.
In January 2021, six days after her third birthday, Livie was diagnosed with meningitis. Three months later her neurologist called me to say that the medications were not going to cure her. She was chronic, and I was devastated.
We experienced a lot in the following months as we faced this new life together. I challenged old beliefs around my ability to nurture. I marveled at her motivation to keep at it no matter what the day gave her. We spent hours outside in the yard each morning, sang and ate treats during rides to therapy, and continued our trips to Lake Arrowhead, Big Bear, and Joshua Tree — hands down the best place to hunt lizards. Our odd little pack was more bonded than ever.
While I was heartbroken that this sweet girl was dealt a hand she didn’t deserve, I started to realize that being her mom was the most fulfilling, meaningful thing I had ever done. My love for her gave me a reason to improve my own energy and mindset to maintain a life of “peace, fun and ease,” words that became my daily mantra.
As she healed, so did I.
By reconnecting with what I truly valued in life, I decided to make the move out of Los Angeles. I wanted simplicity, a house of my own again, peace.
The day after closing on our new home, Livie started to decline.
When it became clear that she was slowly starting to fade, life somehow became suspended in air — a pause I still can’t quite explain. I never got to say goodbye to my father — his dementia progressed throughout the pandemic and he passed two weeks before my visit to see him — but I could change things this time. I could put my life on hold and do all the things I wanted to do with and for her now that I knew our time was limited.
We spent hours in the park sitting under the trees and in our yard with her brother. She cuddled in my lap every morning, looking out the window and growling at passersby, forever the two-ton dragon. Every night we relaxed in bed surrounded by candles, treats and old movies. Toward the end, when her body could no longer carry her spirit, we walked for hours in her stroller. I told Livie everything I needed to tell her three times over.
On one of her last days I bent down to her stroller, telling her for the millionth time that I would never forget her. I couldn’t help but laugh as her attitude seemed to say, “Relax, Mom, I’m ready. Now let’s go see the squirrels.” As if she knew she had cheated life for a while, and it was simply time to go home.
Love is a powerful thing in whatever form we receive it. I still marvel at how something so painful can be so beautiful, and vice versa.
Among all of the gifts I received from knowing Livie, the following lessons guide my life today.
- Rise each day and do the best you can with what you have. Even if it doesn’t feel like much, it’s always something.
- Find what fills your heart, and forget all the rest.
- Peace is far greater than happiness.
- Love, no matter how much pain it brings, always makes us better.