At one time our family owned a little black dog named Snooky. We lived in the country and had a small quail house down the hill behind our house that Snooky liked to inspect from time to time.

One day after Snooky’s visit to the quail house, I found her struggling up the hill using her front legs only. She was dragging her back legs, which were stretched out behind her and appeared to be useless. It seemed that bones might be broken or that something was wrong with her spine, so I took Snooky to a veterinarian. An X-ray was taken and showed that, whatever had happened, there was serious nerve damage. The solution, we were told, was major surgery so that Snooky could walk again.

My eight-year-old daughter, Elisabeth, and I took our little pet home. Snooky didn’t seem to be in any visible pain. In the living room, Elisabeth and I sat with Snooky on my lap and cried for a few minutes. Then we got to work. I knew through my study of Christian Science that we had to see her real identity as a spiritual, perfect creation of God in order to get past the picture of a disabled, material animal in front of us.