I walked fourteen dogs during the week and barely even spoke to their owners, men and women who'd all been living with the disease a long time before walking their dogs became an impossibility. They knew the score, accepted their fate, and had long dealt with the issues.

The last thing they needed was me in their lives--- all they needed was just a little practical help. I needed experience and I needed to be needed, but I also knew I had something to offer other than just walking someone's dog.

It had only been two weeks, but Josetta was already running the place while Sean worked on fundraising, leaving no place for me except walking dogs and performing other client chores. But I was eager so I talked to Sean.

"How about checking in new clients?"

"Josetta has more background and besides she's gentler, easy to talk to. I think that's good for new patients. Look Mike, a few years ago I would have had a pile of work for you, but things have calmed down. Not only fewer cases, but more regular doctors dealing with the disease. Patients go to their own doctors. Don't get me wrong, there's still an epidemic, but it's more controlled, more organized. If you want something more hands-on, maybe this isn't the place for you."

******

Harold listened patiently as I repeated what Sean had told me about the clinic--- how I wasn't really needed. He smiled, "Wow, excellent. I guess that's what we're aiming for."

"Yeah, but now I don't have a job."

"I have another idea."

"For a job?"

******

GREYSTONE - Institute for Mental Health. I drove through the winding driveway and you know what, it was gray.

I was to meet Patricia Warring at noon. She was the personal manager. I had no idea what job they had in mind, but I hoped it wasn't cleaning bedpans. I sat and waited as the Security Guard stared at me, standingbehind a podium-like table.

I watched as an obvious patient pulled a metal washbasin by the handle of a mop. He stopped in front of me and asked if I minded if he washed the floor.

"No." I said.

"Well, you'll be careful not to fall cause I don't want no one getting hurt on account of me or nothing."

"I will be absolutely careful, Mr....?"

He grinned and said, "I am Mr. Shaw. Least that was my daddy's name." He was older and it surprised me to hear him refer to his father. "But you call me Eddie, 'kay?"

"Sure Eddie." He grinned even more now and washed the floor. I was glad to be here.

"Excuse me, are you Michael?" She had straight long black hair with no bangs.

"Yes," I said, "Patricia?"

"That's right, follow me."

We came to her office, which was small and full of wooden furniture. I sat in front of her desk. We talked pleasantly for a while about Harold and directions one could take in the Psyche field. Then she got to thepoint of why I was there, "I have a doctor who needs an assistant, but it's not easy. His patients tend to be very difficult, not quite like Eddie."

"No problem," I said, "You should meet my friends." She didn't respond to my joke.

"I'm serious. It takes patience and cunning to work with these patients."

"My joke was from nervousness. I'm serious, eager, and want to commit to something for the first time in my life. And besides, your patients can't be that bad."