Post by Kelley on Feb 7, 2005 14:17:11 GMT 9.5
February 06, 2005
Inmates, dogs get a second chance
By Orley Hood
RAYMOND — Duke, an 18-month-old Labrador retriever mix, backs away from the barrier, his eyes focused on his handler, Jamie Price, and the plastic toy he's holding.
Duke gets the go-ahead and races for the barrier, leaps over the 5-foot hurdle and snags the toy between his teeth.
The show continues for another five minutes, Price holding the toy, Duke jumping and grabbing.
"It's her baby," Hinds County Sheriff Malcolm McMillin says. "It started several years ago, utilizing inmates to work with dogs through the Mississippi Animal Rescue League."
Stray dogs suitable for training come to the penal farm through MARL, from veterinarians and from animal control officers throughout the three-county metro area. Gardner's team of inmates trains the dogs, then they're adopted for a nominal fee by the general public.
"It gives a lot of dogs who otherwise wouldn't have a chance a home," MARL director Debra Boswell says. "It's beneficial to everyone. It's one of those feel-good things. It teaches manners to rowdy dogs and gives young men who've made a wrong turn in life an opportunity to learn a skill and trade in the animal business."
Max, a sturdy but easy-going German sheperd, was adopted a few months ago by Jacksonians Jef and Brenda Judin, independent film producers.
"He's been a great dog," Jef Judin says. "They did a wonderful job of training him."
Max's only sin? He'll slurp up the cat food in the bowl on the front stoop of their home in northeast Jackson when no one's looking. Mostly though, he lies near the big window in the front room, waiting for his "boy," Nick Judin, 14, to pat him on the head. Max's cost to the Judins? $65, which goes to MARL.
"A bargain," Jef Judin says.
"It's good for everybody," McMillin says. The dogs get off the streets, get trained, get a home. The inmates find purpose in their lives. And people like the Judins get a healthy, well-behaved dog.
"I have seen what the inmates can do for the dogs and what the dogs can do for the inmates," says sheriff's deputy Sgt. James Cooksey. He adopted 4-year-old Cassie, a golden retriever, for his wife, Wanda, six months ago.
Wanda Cooksey is a registered nurse at the University of Mississippi Medical Center's rehabilitation facility, and sometimes takes Cassie to work.
"A lot of elderly people don't have a lot of family close by," James Cooksey says. "People who can't relate to a stranger will relate to a dog. If you're sick and having a bad day and something makes you smile, it perks you up. Cassie makes people smile."
As for the four inmates in the program at the penal farm, McMillin says, "Some have never been responsible for themselves. Feeling responsible is a healthy exercise."
Cooksey says they get a chance to be human beings again. "Dogs are true friends. The inmates get to see what unconditional love is. It teaches you that if you treat somebody right, they'll treat you right."
Price, who grew up in Florence, faces 13 more years on his sentence for a drug-related felony. "It helps take your mind off being in here. It helps me. I love handling dogs. They're alive, too."
The inmates live with the dogs in two trailers down the hill from the penal farm's administrative building.
"Somebody from another county who knew Mac (Sheriff McMillin) donated the trailers, brought them over here, and inmates set them up," Gardner says. "By living together with their handlers, the dog learns house manners and inmates help housebreak dogs."
Tim Isom, 25, from Atlanta, is also doing time for a drug conviction. He's training Lady, a golden retriever-springer spaniel mix with silky fur and a placid disposition.
"I'm really enjoying it," he says. "I love dogs."
"A vet called me," Gardner says, "said she was a wonderful dog, laid back. Lady'll probably go through service dog training, for people in wheelchairs and the hearing impaired."
Other inmates in the program: Purvis Jones, 42, of Jackson, a two-year veteran who also runs the fruit stand at the penal farm's entrance off Raymond Road, and Christian Barocio, 23, of Mexico.
So far, Gardner says, 100 companion dogs have been trained by inmates and adopted. Once a dog is made healthy and trained, the adoption process starts through MARL. Before the adoption is complete, would-be owners "have to come out here two or three times so the guys can show them the hand signals and voice commands," Gardner says. "If they are willing to do that, they'll give the dog a good home."
Next in the grand scheme of things is completion of the Second Chance Pet Partners Training Facility, which will feature a training area, a grooming room, kennels and kennel runs. The new facility will help Gardner expand her inmate handler corps to 10.
"We'll be able to train dogs out of the cold and the heat," she says. They're building it on a pay-as-they-go basis, she says, as money and building materials become available through donations.
The day before, a Hinds County animal control officer brought in a part hounddog, now named "Red."
"He was running the streets," Gardner says. "Tim really likes him. He sees something in him."
They'll hold Red for five to seven days, in case his owner shows up to claim him. After that, Isom starts training him.
Meanwhile, Red lounges near Isom's room on a doggie bed in a large cage furnished with stainless steel water and food bowls, his life of desperation on the streets behind him, no doubt feeling — like his trainer — a new sense of peace.
Inmates, dogs get a second chance
By Orley Hood
RAYMOND — Duke, an 18-month-old Labrador retriever mix, backs away from the barrier, his eyes focused on his handler, Jamie Price, and the plastic toy he's holding.
Duke gets the go-ahead and races for the barrier, leaps over the 5-foot hurdle and snags the toy between his teeth.
The show continues for another five minutes, Price holding the toy, Duke jumping and grabbing.
"It's her baby," Hinds County Sheriff Malcolm McMillin says. "It started several years ago, utilizing inmates to work with dogs through the Mississippi Animal Rescue League."
Stray dogs suitable for training come to the penal farm through MARL, from veterinarians and from animal control officers throughout the three-county metro area. Gardner's team of inmates trains the dogs, then they're adopted for a nominal fee by the general public.
"It gives a lot of dogs who otherwise wouldn't have a chance a home," MARL director Debra Boswell says. "It's beneficial to everyone. It's one of those feel-good things. It teaches manners to rowdy dogs and gives young men who've made a wrong turn in life an opportunity to learn a skill and trade in the animal business."
Max, a sturdy but easy-going German sheperd, was adopted a few months ago by Jacksonians Jef and Brenda Judin, independent film producers.
"He's been a great dog," Jef Judin says. "They did a wonderful job of training him."
Max's only sin? He'll slurp up the cat food in the bowl on the front stoop of their home in northeast Jackson when no one's looking. Mostly though, he lies near the big window in the front room, waiting for his "boy," Nick Judin, 14, to pat him on the head. Max's cost to the Judins? $65, which goes to MARL.
"A bargain," Jef Judin says.
"It's good for everybody," McMillin says. The dogs get off the streets, get trained, get a home. The inmates find purpose in their lives. And people like the Judins get a healthy, well-behaved dog.
"I have seen what the inmates can do for the dogs and what the dogs can do for the inmates," says sheriff's deputy Sgt. James Cooksey. He adopted 4-year-old Cassie, a golden retriever, for his wife, Wanda, six months ago.
Wanda Cooksey is a registered nurse at the University of Mississippi Medical Center's rehabilitation facility, and sometimes takes Cassie to work.
"A lot of elderly people don't have a lot of family close by," James Cooksey says. "People who can't relate to a stranger will relate to a dog. If you're sick and having a bad day and something makes you smile, it perks you up. Cassie makes people smile."
As for the four inmates in the program at the penal farm, McMillin says, "Some have never been responsible for themselves. Feeling responsible is a healthy exercise."
Cooksey says they get a chance to be human beings again. "Dogs are true friends. The inmates get to see what unconditional love is. It teaches you that if you treat somebody right, they'll treat you right."
Price, who grew up in Florence, faces 13 more years on his sentence for a drug-related felony. "It helps take your mind off being in here. It helps me. I love handling dogs. They're alive, too."
The inmates live with the dogs in two trailers down the hill from the penal farm's administrative building.
"Somebody from another county who knew Mac (Sheriff McMillin) donated the trailers, brought them over here, and inmates set them up," Gardner says. "By living together with their handlers, the dog learns house manners and inmates help housebreak dogs."
Tim Isom, 25, from Atlanta, is also doing time for a drug conviction. He's training Lady, a golden retriever-springer spaniel mix with silky fur and a placid disposition.
"I'm really enjoying it," he says. "I love dogs."
"A vet called me," Gardner says, "said she was a wonderful dog, laid back. Lady'll probably go through service dog training, for people in wheelchairs and the hearing impaired."
Other inmates in the program: Purvis Jones, 42, of Jackson, a two-year veteran who also runs the fruit stand at the penal farm's entrance off Raymond Road, and Christian Barocio, 23, of Mexico.
So far, Gardner says, 100 companion dogs have been trained by inmates and adopted. Once a dog is made healthy and trained, the adoption process starts through MARL. Before the adoption is complete, would-be owners "have to come out here two or three times so the guys can show them the hand signals and voice commands," Gardner says. "If they are willing to do that, they'll give the dog a good home."
Next in the grand scheme of things is completion of the Second Chance Pet Partners Training Facility, which will feature a training area, a grooming room, kennels and kennel runs. The new facility will help Gardner expand her inmate handler corps to 10.
"We'll be able to train dogs out of the cold and the heat," she says. They're building it on a pay-as-they-go basis, she says, as money and building materials become available through donations.
The day before, a Hinds County animal control officer brought in a part hounddog, now named "Red."
"He was running the streets," Gardner says. "Tim really likes him. He sees something in him."
They'll hold Red for five to seven days, in case his owner shows up to claim him. After that, Isom starts training him.
Meanwhile, Red lounges near Isom's room on a doggie bed in a large cage furnished with stainless steel water and food bowls, his life of desperation on the streets behind him, no doubt feeling — like his trainer — a new sense of peace.