The story was about dog training programs that have been implemented into prisons across America. The concept is simple yet brilliant. These programs take dogs from overcrowded shelters and place them with prison inmates for training. The animals live with the inmates 24/7 and are trained by them to become adoptable pets or even companion animals. One of the difficulties in training guide and companion dogs is finding dedicated trainers who have enough time to interact with the animals. The prisoner trainers have nothin' but time. The American Correctional Institute says that idleness is a major cause of violence among inmates. Martha Armstrong of the American Humane Society noted that a “lack of training is a major reason pets are brought to shelters. This is your basic win-win situation. Pooches in need of training and prisoners with plenty of time to do exactly that.

Professional trainers provide inmates with the tips they need to rehabilitate their canine charges. Expenses for the programs are generally provided through non-profit organizations with clever names like New Leash on Life Prison Dog Training, Puppies Behind Bars, PAWS (Pawsitive Education Training Solution), and Project Pooch. The stories from these programs are heartwarming and amazing. Annie Tellion was quoted in Urban Dog Magazine (I will give you the quote in case your current issue hasn’t arrived), "A lot of them (inmates) have taken a life, so to be trusted with a life has an added meaning," she says. "They're able to grow self-esteem through this work. This is the best thing they have going on in prison and they don't want to mess it up. For them it's a way to show the outside world that they can succeed at something."(Urbandog Magazine)

Smithsonian Magazine wrote about the growing phenomenon. Like prison inmates everywhere, most of the puppy raisers at Fishkill (Fishkill Correctional Facility, Beacon, New York)had perfected the intimidating look that says, "Don&'t mess with me." That facade does not work with puppies. "Your macho persona is a goner with these dogs," says Ronald Jones, 33, who has served 12 years of a 15-years-to-life sentence for murder. He is raising his second dog, an impish 8-month-old black Lab named Cooper. "I've seen 6-foot-2, 250-pound guys rolling around on the floor kissing and talking in a high voice to their dogs. We all do it, even in the yard with 200 other inmates and guards walking by. We don't care what anybody thinks. It's all about what's good for the dogs. We owe them. They did what nothing or nobody could. They took away our selfishness." The raisers fill their cells with squeak toys and chew bones as well as photographs of their pups past and present. Paintings of puppies and stenciled paw prints also adorn the concrete walls of the dank basement room that serves as Fishkill's training center. Veteran raiser Thomas Lonetto, 33, convicted a decade ago for robbery and attempted murder, says he learned more from giving up his first dog than taking care of it. "I felt what my mother must have felt on the day I was sentenced, when she stood next to the 24-year-old son she loved, who was going away for a very long time," he says. It's called empathy. I didn't know it existed in me until that moment." (Smithsonian magazine)