Dogs and Multiple Sclerosis: a bond made of steel

If love were spelt differently, it would be ‘Oisín.’

Since his passing, I continue to feel his loss as an immeasurable value that pets can give to people with disabilities. His profound impact on my life has left a palpable void that serves as a reminder of the pure, unconditional love he provided. He was a true embodiment of love. The small yet meaningful therapeutic behaviours he learned from a young age have inspired me to believe that any dog can become a trusted companion in times of need. In many ways, their presence can be more vital than certain people’s.

Research has shown that assistance and therapy dogs can benefit people with multiple sclerosis.

▪ Pets and service animals can make life with MS easier — emotionally and physically.
▪ The Benefits of a Service Dog When You Have MS

I firmly believe that canines should have a more significant role in the medical and mental health fields. They possess the unique ability to forge deep connections and offer unyielding loyalty, bringing comfort and understanding to those navigating journeys like those with multiple sclerosis.

Living with a chronic and neurodegenerative illness like multiple sclerosis (MS) is a journey filled with roadblocks that, despite its challenges, can still be one of resilience and strength. For example, many people try to keep working despite their physical health declining faster than expected. In contrast, others retire from the workforce earlier than expected, which involves navigating available support systems and seeking new ways to thrive.

Life’s inherent nature involves people coming and going, with some leaving a more significant impact than others, and goodbyes that in some cases, are hard to accept. Dogs, also, have a lasting effect; their mental and emotional imprint stays with you forever, making their absence felt long after they’re gone.

Why losing a dog can be harder than losing a relative or friend

As 2025 marks the 20th anniversary of my diagnosis, I have a wealth of stories, emotions, and experiences to write about, and perhaps some things I might prefer to keep private. I hope this year will offer much to share, especially as I embark on finding a new puppy.

For 3,5 years, Oisín managed to make the pitfalls of my trigeminal neuralgia less excruciating, which was no mean feat.

Johns Hopkins describes TN as this: ‘Trigeminal neuralgia pain is exceptionally severe. Although the condition is not life-threatening, the intensity of the pain can be debilitating.’

For the past 20 years, I’ve faced the challenging ups and downs of TN, and over time, I’ve learned to navigate and adapt to new normals. It’s often tough to share the impact of an invisible illness, mainly because it can seem too complex and implausible to believe. How many times have people disregarded you when you told them that your facial nerve pain can be triggered by talking, kissing, eating, wind blowing on your face, putting on make-up or by sudden, loud noises? Or, how often have you been stared at because you said other nerve pain can present as itchiness, shooting or stabbing pain, or even a burning sensation?

A dog is devoid of misconceptions and judgment, all they want is for you to love them as much as they love you, and are as such the ultimate MS anxiety-buster.

The anxiety I experience when leaving the house stems from my fear of trigeminal neuralgia attacks-I’ve left shopping trolleys in the middle of the grocery store when a sudden, loud noise triggered piercing eye and ear pain, as well as having to leave friends at a restaurant table because the noise in the restaurant caused me to yelp of pain. Not only are these just a few harmless sounding triggers, but others, like vibrations from walking, touching my face, or even talking and eating, are as damaging. When these attacks happen at home, I tend to vent my frustrations for a moment, then do whatever is needed to return to a state of mental and emotional acceptance. In short, I tell myself, ‘It is what it is. Do your thing, even though it’s so unnaturally severe. You’ve been there before, and you survived.’

Yet, while all this is difficult to accept, the good news is that life goes on—despite the pain, the disrespect for what you are going through, and the times you were told that you and your illness didn’t fit into people’s schedules anymore.

And as life with MS goes on—no matter which type, the severity and the number of symptoms you deal with daily, you wonder what tomorrow might be like. For lack of a better word, you wonder if miracles exist to ease its impact on your life.

I can tell you this: yes, miracles most certainly do exist.

Mine came as a 9-week-old brindle-coloured Whippet in 2021. He grew so fast that I thought his skin would be unable to keep up with his bones. Not only was Oisín in tune with my illness, but he was able to wipe out the mental and emotional grievances that come with chronic pain; he felt like a safety blanket, as mentioned in my previous post. I want to use his example as a vision and recreate our bond, as he gave my life significance, dyed it with love, and created a purpose to do well.

When Oisín dashed into my life, he picked up on facial pain attacks early, whether he recognised a difference in facial expressions, an acute rise in fatigue levels, or brain chemicals oozing from my head. He lay down next to me as always, even in the worst uncomfortable positions, just to feel my body, and stayed until I was able to walk without foot-to-floor vibrations sending lightning bolts through my face.

He just knew.

Pets can lower anxiety and stress levels without being aware of it themselves. Osh, as such, lowered my TN-related stress and anxiety levels and helped me navigate the house when I temporarily lost sight in my left eye. He was all the MS treatment I needed.

He built a bridge we both crossed without knowing how important we would become to each other. Remember, he was advertised as a Jack Russell pup, not a Whippet, but when I saw him, I was sold. He grew rapidly until I realised that this was no Jack Russell; this was a Whippet extraordinaire. The veterinary doctor confirmed his Whippet status, and when I noticed that this breed was much more compatible with my illness, it was as if fate intervened in both our favours. I won the lottery daily for 42 straight months. He was unable to cure my multiple sclerosis, but he tried to be the best neuroscientist on this tiny island of Ireland.

After plenty of research, I am now on the lolookingcket Beagle (called a ‘Foot Beagle’ in Ireland and a ‘mini Beagle’ elsewhere). It might take some time due to availability in the area, financial costs, and the need to be able to take the dog to different locations; they must, therefore, be small in stature but large in character.

In the meantime, grief is like a wave on a stormy ocean, but hope raises the temperature of my soul when I watch videos of Oisín’s adventures.

Thanks to all those who cared for him as if he were their own.