The hulking male patient towering in front of me would cause fear in most people, with his over six feet five inch frame splattered in tattoos. "I’ll watch Wendel for you, Miss Karen," he said simply.

"Yes, thank you, Charlie." As a psychiatric nurse for the last twenty-five years, I was currently working at an Adult Day Care Health Center. The program hosted patients from five counties and those attending were deemed to be at imminent risk of in-patient hospitalization. Their only common bond was a low income, depleted resources and chronic issues, both physical and mental.

Over one hundred patients a day were transported to an old renovated movie theater to socialize, attend groups and receive physical and occupational therapy. Ages ranged from eighteen (the minimum) up to ninety-two. Youngsters like twenty-one year old Charlie usually had some developmental delays with a criminal background, often compounded with a history of drug abuse. Our job at the Center was to monitor medication compliance, assess and enhance social support systems, maintain physical status and assist with the multiple problems that arise during lives with less than optimal circumstances.

Charlie had come into our program a month earlier, a rather typical case: angry and troubled from a poor family, having served some jail time, few prospects in sight with little education and less motivation. He had no interest in the compulsory program (a requirement at most Board and Care homes to prevent troublesome mischief by residents), tested rules and preferred playing pool over any groups. It had gotten to the point that the Treatment Team convened to discuss discharging Charlie for non-participation.

However, one of my passions is training animals, and I had arranged with my supervisor to start bringing my Spaniel, Wendel, with me to work in order for him to earn hours toward advanced degrees. This was enough to get Charlie’s attention, an animal lover at heart; he decided to become Wendel’s overseer on the spot. Our unspoken understanding was that participation in the program meant more Wendel time for Charlie. But more than that was Charlie’s realization of consequences for his behavior and appreciation of gentle and calm actions. Wendel gave immediate feedback related to quick and hasty movements, and was helping Charlie to interpret his mannerisms and correct his casual and inconsiderate habits.

One day in particular was an example of this. Charlie stormed into the Center, a conflict over seating on the bus had left him fuming. He rushed up to Wendel who would have nothing to do with him in such a state. Wendel merely turned his head away from Charlie to inform him that his inappropriate emotions were not welcomed. The flash of understanding across Charlie’s face was immediate. We watched in amazement and relief as Charlie counted out loud, as part of his "Wendel lessons," "One, two, three," and intentionally slowed his breathing. At once, Wendel allowed himself to be petted by Charlie.

There were many more lessons for Charlie and Wendel during the next year. Charlie was able to graduate from the program, obtain his GED and work part-time. Occasionally, we would get cards from him addressed to Dr. Wendel, who during this time also earned his degrees in psychology and the elderly, and who would go on to teach many more lessons.