BY RICHELLE THOMPSON
The Cincinnati Enquirer
![[dog]](/editions/1998/09/18/dog_161x150.jpg)
Terry Hagan and David Griffith work with Thor, a Great Pyrenees.
(Dick Swaim photo)
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LEBANON -- When Lady left, Kevin Lagore wept. The dog who shared this convicted killer's prison cell was his best friend.
Like 17 other dogs since April, Lady had traded the bars of a cage at the Warren County Humane Society for the bars of a prison cell at the Warren Correctional Institution.
During that time, inmate and dog learned from each other. Lady left the prison housebroken and obedient, able to sit, stay and heel. Mr. Lagore stayed behind, ineligible for parole until 2023. But Lady softened his heart, and Mr. Lagore laughs now when he tells how Doc, his second dog-in-training, wakes him up early in the morning, whining because he wants to play.
The Rover Rehab program, one of a handful in the state, pairs dogs who likely would end up euthanized with inmates who have plenty of time on their hands to train the dogs and make them more adoptable.
The dogs save taxpayers money, said Sandy Rowland, director of the Great Lakes region office for the Humane Society of the United States. Since the program began in April at Warren Correctional, a close-security facility with 1,350 inmates, discipline problems in Block 2B are down, said the prison's community service and job coordinator, Jennifer Ward. Inmates have to be on their best behavior to participate in this program or another, Pilot Dogs Inc., which provides guide dogs for the blind. There are two pilot dogs at Warren Correctional.
Rover Rehab has been so successful, said Officer Michael Barr, who coordinates the program, that he received approval this week to increase the number of dogs by five, up to 15. And he's got about 100 inmates on a waiting list to join the program.
Ms. Rowland said the dogs also serve as a substitute for hours of therapy, calming the inmates and chasing away depression.
And the program saves the dogs. Some inmates have persuaded their parents to dog-sit until they are released. Prison employees have adopted the rest, including Lady.
The humane society calculated the risks of having convicted criminals care for the unwanted pets, board member Barbara Garten said.
"We decided we had to take that risk," she said. "These dogs would be dead if we didn't."
More than 5,000 animals come to the Warren County shelter every year. Two-thirds are put to sleep. There aren't enough people who want to adopt the stray cats and unwanted dogs, shelter Director Mari Lee Schwarzwalder said.
Some of the dogs sent to the prison arrived at the shelter abused or neglected.
When Thor, a Great Pyrenees, came to the prison to live with Terry Hagan of Cleveland and David Griffith of Lebanon in July, the dog's white coat was matted and stained. The inmates took turns rubbing ointment on his open sores and wiping green phlegm from his nose. Six weeks later, Thor's fur is like snow.
Having a dog "gives you a change of lifestyle," said Mr. Griffith, who has 13 more years to serve for aggravated robbery. "You can't show affection to other inmates . . . but with a dog, you can talk all that goo-goo stuff with them and it's OK."
On Thursday, Thor left the prison for a new home with Maj. Carl Mockabee, the chief security officer at Warren Correctional. When Bowser, a mixed-breed, came to the shelter, a veterinarian asked "if the dog was salvageable," Mrs. Garten said. Mites infested his fur, and he needed at least one surgery to correct an eye problem.
A month later, Nedda Brown, a teacher at the prison, was looking Bowser over to see whether he would be a good addition to her 20-acre farm.
Inmate Brian Mann of Lebanon wants Bowser to be placed with someone like Ms. Brown so he can hear occasional updates on the dog's well-being while he finishes his sentence for murder.
"He's just a big baby," Mr. Mann said of Bowser. "He sleeps on my bed with me and likes to put his head on my chest."
The program has other, perhaps unexpected, benefits as well, said Kay Northrup, warden at the Oakwood Correctional Facility in Lima. Inmates there have trained humane society dogs about two years.
"It provides them with a sense of responsibility, a sense of accomplishment," Ms. Northrup said. The inmates "appreciate the opportunity to provide positive feedback to the community." The experience has given David Patenaude of Lebanon a new life goal. When he finishes serving his sentence for aggravated burglary and drug trafficking, he wants to become a dog trainer.
"Guys who are in here, we ain't did much to give to the community before," he said, stroking the fur of his dog, Max. "This gives us a chance to do something good."
![[dog]](/editions/1998/09/18/dog_500x467.jpg)