Sprawled out on the concrete floor of my cell was Adams, a good boy and a plush pillow. Burrowing my face in his fur, I breathed in his coat and paws, which smelled distinctly and pleasantly like corn chips. My unit manager interrupted our final snuggle session.
“Silvonek, are you ready?”
I leashed Adams and dressed him in his service vest, with tears streaming down my face.
“I love you, my Pooh Bear,” I said, then kissed his moist nose. “You’re going to make someone so happy.”
As a participant in the prison puppy program at the State Correctional Institution at Muncy, I volunteer with Canine Partners for Life to raise and train service dogs to assist individuals with physical, psychological and cognitive disabilities. Incarcerated handlers like myself raise puppies for nearly two years, starting when they are 5 months old. We train them in obedience, socialization and the beginnings of advanced service dog training. I have guided two dogs through the program, and I’m currently raising my third puppy, a yellow lab named Thew.
Earlier this year, Tait, the first puppy I worked with, became a full-service medical alert dog for his human partner, Kristi. In addition to assisting her with everyday tasks, Tait alerts Kristi of her narcolepsy, waking her up when she falls asleep during the day. Tait helped Kristi secure a job after years of being unable to work due to her medical condition.
Not yet 6 months old, Tait had come to Muncy as a playful and eager pup. He was easily distracted and quick to jump on people. I took him with me everywhere, working to ensure his behavior was appropriate in all environments. In addition to caring for Tait’s needs, we trained three times a day. Tait opened and closed cabinets, retrieved items and provided balance and mobility assistance.
Lisa, another participant in the program, has been training dogs for nearly 10 of the 12 years she has been incarcerated.
“I can’t explain how rewarding it is to know that the dogs we’re training here change people’s lives for the better,” she said.
In 2016, Lisa got to see Jiffy, a dog she trained, with his human partner at a fundraising event.
“It made me realize that this is why I’m here,” she said. “This is why I’m doing this.”
The puppy program is voluntary, so participants are still expected to work a prison job. Handlers bring their puppies with them to different jobs. We frequently switch off our dogs to ensure they are each exposed to a variety of sights, smells and sounds. Every day is a new adventure.
Prior to being incarcerated at age 14, I never had to be responsible for anyone or anything, including myself. I’ve had to learn how to care for a puppy while juggling other obligations, like my job as a tutor and my courseload as a college student.
There are many days when I don’t feel like waking up at dawn to take my puppy outside or washing soiled bedding by hand. But my puppy needs me to be my best self no matter how I’m feeling.
Prison is desensitizing, leeching us of our capacity to feel anything other than numbness. Working with dogs, I’ve experienced awe, reverence and playfulness — emotions I thought I had lost the capacity to feel. I like contributing to society in a tangible way, but my participation in the puppy program is not entirely selfless. Being loved by a dog is a gift I am grateful to receive every day, even while in prison.
My friend Della, who has been incarcerated for over 18 years, joined the puppy program about three years ago. She said it has given back to her in similar ways.
“Being in prison for so many years makes you feel like you’re losing your humanity,” she said. “It took training these dogs — helping them learn and grow — to make me feel human again.”