by Meadow Lark

Created on: May 27, 2008   Last Updated: May 29, 2009

I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis a few years ago. Shortly after the diagnosis, I began to attend informative meetings and found myself focusing on the person in the room who had the worse symptoms and, believe me, there are some people with very serious symptoms. I was on a big learning curve, and one of my first lessons was that I had to come to grips with the fact that I could become blind and be a burden to my family. This former ribbon-winning track runner was feeling that her body had become the enemy.

During this troubling time in my life, my dog, Hobbes, was struggling, too. He was a lovable cocker spaniel who lived with my husband and I for 14 years. He was a wonderful teacher because even though dogs don't say words, every pet owner knows they do communicate.

When Hobbes and I visited the vet one weekend, we learned he would have to have surgery. This led to something I had seen but never experienced with a dog, a very large collar that looked like a giant lampshade. No dog wants to go through life with a giant lampshade.

Hobbes hated his beacon of despair! He would get between our washer and dryer and bang that horrible, evil thing back and forth. At that point, I hated his lampshade as much as he did.

My recent M.S. diagnosis and his giant collar allowed me to consider our similar circumstances in life. I was taking Hobbes for a short walk when I made the following observations:

1. Since he was unable to see anything but his large lampshade as he walked, I realized what he needed was what I needed. Instead of dwelling on my disease (or staring at my disability), I needed to realize, as Hobbes did, that in order to get around in life, I needed to see the "bigger picture" because, frankly, my M.S. diagnosis did not define me anymore than Hobbes' horrible, giant collar defined him;

2. I realized that Hobbes was anxious as we walked because he was not able to see the tree next to him or another dog if it came running towards him. I, too, was anxious and worried due to obstacles and the fear of the unknown. I began to learn, as Hobbes did, that my Owner was still guiding and watching over me;

3. Hobbes loved having his ears scratched, which, of course, was next to impossible with his large collar. I realized that my fretting over things beyond my control was not helping. It was time to let others scratch behind my ears. It was time to let people into my life. I'm not sure any person can have a well balanced

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