From JuJu with Love

The best gift I gave myself at 50 had four legs, a cold nose and a wagging tail

My 50th year was a big one.

Not because of a party or a trip or a milestone candle count—but because life showed up in a way that made everything feel fragile and precious all at once.

My best friend was diagnosed with stage IV throat cancer.

And then—miraculously, bravely, unbelievably—he beat it.

Watching someone you love fight for their life has a way of snapping everything into focus. It made me realize that turning 50 wasn’t something to fear. It was something to honor. And I decided to give myself a gift—not something wrapped in paper, but something I could carry with me every day.

I gave myself the gift of health.

I didn’t follow a trendy diet.

I didn’t sign up for a boot camp or drink magic shakes.

I just… started moving.

I went to the gym.

I walked on the treadmill for an hour a day.

I ate less.

I cut out alcohol and red meat—but I didn’t cut out joy. I still ate everything else, just in moderation.

Slowly, steadily, without drama, I lost 50 pounds during my 50th year.

But the best gift of all didn’t come from a gym or a scale.

She came home on four legs.

Meet Maizey. A 35 lb mini English Goldendoodle.

Maizey arrived in my life when I was 50, and I honestly don’t know how I lived without her before. She became my walking partner, my cuddle buddy, and my best furry friend. She makes me laugh every single day—sometimes at her, sometimes at myself for loving her so much.

We call her Crazy Maizey.

And she absolutely earns the nickname.

She runs in circles when loud cars go by while we’re walking, like she’s trying to outrun the noise. In the car she jumps from the front to the backseat, drooling and barking. She once ate thru a seatbelt that was keeping her safe. She has never met a person who wasn’t instantly her best friend. She loves my neighbors, jumps on them, kisses them, and assumes every human exists solely to adore her.

Dogs, however?

Hard no.

After being attacked twice in our neighborhood, Maizey decided dogs were not to be trusted. She doesn’t do kennels. She doesn’t do dog parks. She doesn’t do canine socializing.

She only has two 4-legged friends.

And she’s perfectly happy that way.

Maizey keeps me moving—even on days when motivation is low. She keeps me grounded when my mind wanders. She reminds me that joy can be loud, silly, imperfect, and unconditional.

I cringe when people say, “Well, she’s just a dog.”

Because Maizey isn’t just a dog. She’s so much more than that.

She’s my constant companion. My shadow. My confidant. My family.

She has listened to my rambling thoughts, my worries, my hopes. She licks my tears when I cry and somehow always knows when I need her most. She places her paw in mine like she’s saying, I’m here. And she gives me high-fives every time Michigan scores — which, of course, she does proudly in her own Michigan sweater or jersey while we watch games together in my Diva Den.

She’s afraid of loud cars, fireworks, and thunderstorms, but she loves snuggling close when the world feels too noisy. She loves sitting on my lap (despite pretending she’s much smaller than she really is). She lives for belly rubs, long cuddles, and being surrounded by her people. And nothing makes her happier than running full speed, off leash, on the golf course behind our house — ears flapping, tongue out, completely free.

Maizey doesn’t just walk beside me — she walks with me through life. And I honestly don’t know who I’d be without her.

At 50, I learned that health isn’t about perfection—it’s about consistency.

That strength can be quiet.

That healing comes in many forms.

And sometimes, the greatest gifts come with fur, quirks, and a wagging tail.

I don’t know what I would do without her.

And honestly?

I don’t want to imagine life without the lessons that year gave me either.

Fifty wasn’t an ending.

It was a beginning.

From Juju with Love 🐾💙