One of the most cherished hours of the week is from one p.m. to 2:30 p.m. on Tuesdays when I go to the Mansion to read stories to the residents.

I came in late this afternoon, and was surprised to find Julie Harlin, the activities director, reading from my book “Saving Simon.”

I know the residents love the story of Simon, and the book I wrote about him.  But I’m shy about reading my own books, and never do it. When I came in, Julie was halfway into one of the chapters, so I picked up where she left off to bake some cookies.

I never read from my own books, I liked it today.

Then I played a story I found online about Africa and a gentle tribe that lives near Capetown, South Africa. I could see they didn’t relate to the story, so I turned it off and asked for their help in training Zinnia.

Getting her to come, to sit, and especially to stay.

Showing them how to pet her without exciting her and timing her while she stayed and lay down. I told them about the rigorous therapy dog certification process, about how much work we still had to do.

I explained about Simon’s life on our farm – too brief – and the long and rich history of donkeys and humans, older even that people and dogs, if you follow cave drawings.

My Mansion readings are popular, the activity room is always full, I’m doing a lot of training with Zinnia in that room, we can close the door and she is tempted and distracted by food, people calling to her and talking to her. I try to keep her focused and still, that was working very well today.

Every day, when I leave, I usually get some applause and many thanks. “Thank you for being here,” said Madeline (she can’t recall my name and calls me ‘Hey, Mister.’

“Thank you for showing up,” she said.

I hear that a lot from the residents, they expect people in their lives to disappear -that almost always happens – and they brace themselves for the hurt. So far, I haven’t hurt them by disappearing, I’m not going anywhere.

For much of my life, I was the king of burnouts. I’ve learned about boundaries.

As for Zinnia, she was great. She stayed in the center, was freed on command, and she circled the room, saying hello, getting kissed and patted.

The residents loved watching her chew on a cow’s ear that I brought, she was flipping it into the air and she was hopping up and down and pouncing on it.

They loved hearing about Simon and they loved watching me work with Zinnia. It is so helpful to be working with the people we are going to be visiting. To Zinnia, they already like family, she is completely at ease in the Mansion.

“This is great,” said Carol, watching Zinnia chew on her cow’s ear, “it’s a story in itself.” And so it was. The reading hour means a lot to me. When I was a kid and we were in trouble, nobody ever showed up, including our parents.

I’m learning that the stories are fine, but what seems to matter is me, is showing up. Hard to accept that, but I see it’s true. I always have a bag of things they have requested – today it was leggings, some socks, two belts, two oversized bras.

So I think this work has become healing for me because unless they throw me out, I will never stop showing up. Two of the Mansion aides came up to me today and shook my hand, and both of them said (my coffee creamers and supplies for the Break Room showed up today) “thank you for taking care of us, we really appreciate it.

And I appreciate them. I love them for what they do every day.

I kept moving, and thanked them over my shoulders, I didn’t want to mist up before my reading time. The aides deserved coffee creamers and more (I’m working on raising money for scrubs for them, I don’t want them buying their own.)

(If you wish to support my work at the Mansion, you can do so via Paypal, [email protected] or Jon Katz, Mansion Fund, P.O. Box 205, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816.

Thanks.