To me, my pup Gizmo resembled a superhero with a radiant cape of love. I made Gizmo’s cape myself with acrylic paint, and another person at my prison sewed the cape together.
In prison, fastened by razor wire and filled with hundreds of incarcerated men, the puppy delighted in being in our midst, comforting people. When Gizmo was here, before he got adopted, I trained him, fed him and put him in his kennel. I took care of him all day, until he went to sleep.
I was able to spend time with Gizmo because I’m a dog handler in my prison’s dog program. You must be admitted to the program. Handlers live in a dorm where all the dogs are housed. When I joined the program, Gizmo was already here. We were together for close to five months before he got adopted.
Gizmo is a pug with broad and sad puppy eyes, and a curly tail. He walked the prison yard with bouncy ears, seeking someone to show love to. He walked the yard every morning, afternoon and night, on a leash. Officers, staff and incarcerated people frequently came up to him to say hi. People often called him by his name. With his lengthy wet tongue, he could swiftly stroke the entire face of a downcast individual.
This was my first dog — I never had one before prison. But I’ve had two different pups since Gizmo was adopted.
When Gizmo was here, I embraced him firmly with both my arms and kissed him softly to let him know that he was well loved. I could tell Gizmo appreciated the care: My pup would pounce on me excitedly with a barrage of slurpy wet licks to my face to let me know that I was well loved by him, too.
