Pictured above are my two friends, German Shepherd Dog "Sophia," and Chris. Many people have asked me about Sophia, or "Sophie" as I usually just call her. Well, this is Sophie's story! Her entire tale is longer, but our abbreviated story begins with Chris & I several years ago during a difficult time in my illness. This is the shortened prologue to a longer tale.

A few years ago, I am working long hours on my research while preparing lecture materials for several new classes I teach at the University. I am a professor. My MS is getting progressively worse. I decide to tell my co-workers and my Dean that I have MS when I start using a wheelchair (and a scooter) to attend work. I have always used crutches at work, but have not spoken about my personal illness (MS) until one day I am forced to ask the Dean who hired me for an accommodation. I ask for wheelchair accessibility to the buildings I am being asked to enter, and that my three-hour long lecture courses be divided into three separate one-hour blocks [the same length of teaching time], or made into computer web-based courses so that I may continue as a Professor even though I am experiencing progressing disability and fatigue caused by my MS. My request is denied. I am forced to resign from my job. I fall into a terrible depression. I am unemployed. Chris pays my rent.

I spend my days reading scientific papers searching for a possible therapy for my rarer form of MS. To date there is no proven-effective treatment for primary progressive multiple sclerosis. I convince one of my two neurologists to take a chance on an experimental treatment called plasma exchange being studied at the Mayo Clinic. Unfortunately, I suffer a bacterial infection within my "aortic shunt" (the device used to administer the procedure). I spike a high fever. My MS gets extremely bad. I cannot stand or transfer myself from my wheelchair without help. I feel physically and mentally drained. I speak about ending my life to Chris. She becomes very upset with me. She tells me that we are going to investigate getting a service dog to help me around the apartment, and to keep me company during the day. She tells me that I should enjoy my free time away from work, that I should start painting artwork more often, and that I should relax, use my time wisely and focus on the therapies I have already had some success with (diet, exercise, prayer, DHEA). Chris takes me to church weekly and on Holy Days. She tells me that we will both find our answers there. Chris is a true friend.

So, I listen to her. I apply for a service dog with several programs that train them for disabled people (Susquehanna Service Dogs, Canine Companions for Independence, Paws with a Cause, Canine Partners For Life & Independence Dogs, Inc.), but events do not work out with the service dog I am matched with (a Great Dane) and after six months of waiting the next application process will likely take one to three years! Chris and I decide that we are going to do the training ourselves. We learn about training dogs and different dog breeds. We are both impressed with the information provided on the Dog Breed Information website. We eventually go to see about twenty puppies--one litter of German Shepherds and one litter of Golden Retrievers. We test them all for trainability and personality using a puppy test recommended by the Monks of New Skete. The first puppy we test is Sophie.

Sophie scores higher than all seven of her brothers, and is the only female in the litter. So, we consider it a good sign, but I say that we cannot just take the first puppy we test! So, we also test the Golden retriever puppies. Several score well too. Ultimately, we decide that because I have started swimming as a therapy, and because a Golden Retriever will likely enjoy the water too much (and may decide to join me in the pool), that a German Shepherd is the better choice. We are both a little hesitant about trying to train a German Shepherd Dog since they grow-up to be rather big and scary looking dogs. A Golden Retriever may be easier, but deep down I want Sophie (the smallest puppy & only female in her litter). So, we purchase Sophie!

Chris names her "Sophia" and hopes that the puppy will be easy to train and may teach us both about wisdom. Sophia comes from latin & means "wisdom." Days later I realize that Sophie's birthday is August 24th 2000. A wonderfully strange coincidence! Chris's birthday is December 24th (Christmas Eve) and mine is April 24th; in terms of one calendar year we are all exactly four months apart. We laugh and consider it another good sign. Strange too, August 24th is the birthday of a close friend who died of cancer several years before, but whose personality and positive spirit always made me smile. When I was a kid, Gene would take me to see horror movies that no one else wanted to sit through. Growing up, he had a female German Shepherd named "Greta," another good sign.

Unfortunately, signs do not remain optimistic. I am still depressed. I am going to church weekly with Chris, but I am not yet going to Mass daily. Truly, church was not yet part of my daily life. I receive my Hemlock Society video tape about methods for killing myself and assisted suicide in the mail. My MS starts to exacerbate again. Our apartment complex informs us that we are in violation of the rules. No dogs aloud! Especially not puppies! But, Sophie is being trained as a service dog so we are legally safe. When you know the law, and when the people you are fighting against know the law, life is better. Chris and I are informed that we are allowed to keep Sophie. Raising a puppy on the seventh floor of an apartment complex in Philadelphia confined to a wheelchair is difficult. Sophie has accidents everywhere! I tell Chris that I cannot deal with the mess any longer, and that I am getting rid of the puppy. Chris says that I can do whatever I want, but that the puppy loves you. She hands me a stack of books to read about training dogs, puts the leash in my hand, and leaves me alone. I ignore her. I make up signs to get rid of Sophie.

Guess what? The puppy's charm speaks louder than Chris. I cannot do it. The puppy is much too cute. I start reading the books. Shortly after, Chris & I and our good friend Kevin come up with a plan to make a giant sand box "poop deck" on our balcony in view of the Philadelphia skyline--which Sophie might use as a bathroom. Our neighbors are delighted. Well, half of them are! But, as time passes we win almost everyone's heart and more vocal supporters in our complex than I can count. Yes, it is difficult. Carrying forty pound bags of sand from the parking lot up the elevator seven floors to our apartment every other week--on a scooter even with Chris helping me is exhausting, but we mange and our method works! Sophie who is still only a puppy does not yet have strong bladder and bowel control and cannot wait long enough to make it down our apartment elevator (seven floors) without going to the bathroom on the way. When accidents happen, Sophie looks and feels bad, and she learns to use the sandbox "poop deck" quickly. My bowel and bladder control are also getting worse because of my MS, so I identify with the puppy's embarassment. Sophie still has the occasional accident in our apartment, but not often and she grows quickly. Our sandbox "poop deck" with the Philadelphia skyline is a complete success! Much improved over the loose newspapers we were originally spreading on our porch to catch Sophie's droppings. Philadelphia is a very windy city seven stories up!

The time goes by quickly, I am too busy to be depressed about my MS, and the loss of my job. My family who was depressed gets less depressed when they visit. Sophie cheers everyone up! I make friends everywhere I go. People see a guy in a scooter with a German Shepherd puppy and they smile. They want to talk to me. Before long, Sophie and I have about a dozen new friends-- dogs and their owners meeting us everyday outside after work in Philafelphia. While our dogs play together, the dog owners eventually start telling me about their problems. Most seem small compared to mine, and most of them don't know or ask what my problem is, so I usually don't tell them and just give them my best advice. Amazingly, I am not depressed anymore. I forget about my Hemlock Society video tape for awhile. I feel like I'm worth something, and I love watching Sophie grow up and play with the other dogs. The story gets more complex after that--with us moving to Levittown Pennsylvania and then Pittsburgh, but God works a small miracle through Sophie everywhere we go!

Within my own life, Sophie creates a true feeling of safety and added confidence. Most people cannot relate to having a disease that progressively cripples you physically and mentally. I know people who feel very vulnerable outside in a wheelchair, especially friends living in large cities like Philadelphia or Pittsburgh. I have even known disabled people to carry guns. Truly, the most important thing Sophie has given me is the wisdom of knowing that regardless of how bad I feel or disabled I am, Sophie's love is unconditional. She is a true friend, and I am not another MS suicide statistic.

Yes, Sophie's tale is longer than this stort story (as you can imagine), but, that is for another time. Until then, please enjoy our gallery, and please send us your prayers. Our rosary prayer group meets after morning Mass, and Sophie is always with us. She's a good shepherd! Ha, ha.. God bless.

Read Suicide and Assisted-Suicide and The Healing Art of Creativity before visiting the gallery. If you would like to learn more about Dr. Weber's other research interests click here. We hope you enjoy your visit!
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