At a Greencastle prison, rescued greyhounds, inmates find new worth through each other
Then the Indianapolis resident, who was serving a 10-year sentence for robbery at the Putnamville Correctional Facility in Greencastle, met Rosey, a former racing greyhound.
Hartzell was one of the first eight offenders chosen to be dog handlers in the new Prison Greyhounds program. The nonprofit effort rescues former racing dogs and trains them as house pets.
Now Hartzell -- just like the dogs in his care -- has a second chance at life.
"I've had dogs all my life, but this is different," said Hartzell, who takes his dog with him everywhere he goes in the all-male prison, except for the medical and dining facilities.
"There's this feeling that I'm doing something for a good cause. It helps the days go by quicker. ... The dog gives you a second chance at responsibility -- something I've neglected."
Since the program began in March, seven dogs have completed the 90-day training period and have been adopted by local families. Four more dogs entered the prison in September.
Hartzell's newest companion is "Luna," a 3-year-old greyhound. But it was his first dog, "Rosey," that renewed the father's faith in his own ability to nurture. With a 7-year-old son and 6-year-old daughter awaiting his release, the 36-year-old former carpet-layer said he felt his first sense of accomplishment in a long time when he taught Rosey to sit.
As he talks, Hartzell is interrupted often by Luna's nudges. She seeks his attention, and Hartzell stops midsentence to acknowledge the dog with a soft pat down her slender back, followed by a treat.
While the dog handlers are told not to get too attached to the dogs they are training, the close relationship they share has helped inmates in the program learn how to care again.
"The best way I can explain this program is something I read on a bumper sticker," said Stephen Shotwell, a case manager with the Putnamville Correctional Facility, who oversees the Prison Greyhounds program inside the prison walls.
The sticker read: "I hope I'm half the man my dog thinks I am."
Teaching life lessons
The program is too new for administrators to know its effect on inmates' rehabilitation, but there's an overwhelming consensus that the lessons run deep -- way beyond the time most inmates spend re-evaluating their actions and regretting their crimes.
"The dogs have had a huge impact on our housing unit," said Alisia Lawrence, spokeswoman for the medium security prison, located on 3,500 acres about 50 miles west of Indianapolis.
The inmates are not only excited to have the dogs in their care, she said, "they are learning empathy and gaining a sense of responsibility for something other than themselves. That's all part of the rehabilitation that leads to their release."
The head of a organization that uses pets as therapy for people, says programs like Prison Greyhounds give inmates another chance to show they can do something worthwhile with their lives.
"Maybe these men have had a child taken from them. It can teach them to be more nurturing. Maybe they're depressed or shy. It can help draw them out," said Darlene Gosnell, executive director of TheraPets of Indiana, a Fishers-based organization that uses Cairn Terriers and West Highland Terriers in hospital settings and emergency situations to provide comfort to victims.
"A prison program like this is invaluable. It provides so many personal and professional skills," said Gosnell, who is trained as a first responder with Indiana's Crisis Assistance Response Teamand helped in the moments after the tragic stage-rigging collapse at the Indiana State Fairin 2011.
Some dogs have never stepped foot on concrete, climbed stairs, or even played with a toy.
And like the offenders, the dogs are accustomed to a regimented lifestyle. According to the Greyhound Racing Association of America, the dogs' typical routine includes racing twice a week. The other five days, the dogs spend lounging in their kennels, eating, or going out for exercise.
During the three months that the greyhounds are in their care, the offenders live by the same rules, rights and restrictions as other inmates, but they have an added responsibility -- a dog to care for.
"Just like all people, all dogs are different," said Jerry Hefley, 23, Indianapolis, who is serving time for robbery. "You have to size them up and let them size you up. If they don't like to be hugged, then you need to give them space. If they don't like to be around a lot of noise, then you have to think about that before you take them to church."
Because each greyhound has its own personality, the handlers learn from experience about the locations best suited for the individual dogs.
When Hartzell took one of the dogs in his care to his business class, the dog chewed on a desk. The dog wasn't welcome back. But when he took the dog to the library, the effect left another memory.
"There's a guy who works in there who has been locked up for more than 27 years. I don't think he even remembered petting a dog," Hartzell said. "Within five seconds, the guy just changed. He's a friendly guy anyway, but his face just lit up when he saw the dog coming and it still does. It's like for that little moment, he forgets he's locked up. He feels some freedom in the dog."
A flood of dogs
Mary Louden, an Indianapolis resident and president of Prison Greyhounds, formed the rescue effort along with her husband Jeff.
They designed Prison Greyhounds after similar greyhound-training programs, including "2nd Chance at Life," which was once active in the Plainfield Correctional Facility. The Loudens had volunteered with the program until it dissolved. They then sent letters to various prisons throughout the state, searching for a compatible training partner for the rescued greyhounds, until settling on the Putnamville prison.
Greyhounds come to the new program from the Daytona Beach Kennel Club, through a Florida-based rescue group. And while it's difficult to know how many greyhounds are adopted in Indiana or nationwide each year because of the sheer numbers, there are more than a dozen greyhound adoption agencies in the Midwest alone.
"They send out over 700 retired greyhounds every year to states that do not have race tracks, all the way up to Michigan and also to the East Coast," Louden said.
After three years of planning and $7,000 worth of fundraising, Prison Greyhounds was launched at the Putnamville prison.
The offenders do not receive reduced time on their sentences for their participation in the Prison Greyhounds program. But before they can become a dog handler, the inmates are expected to complete a time-reduction program, the Clean Lifestyle is Freedom Forever program.
Like Hartzell, many of the offenders in the Prison Greyhounds program ended up in prison because of crimes stemming from drug addictions. They robbed and burglarized to support a habit.
The CLIFF Program ensures the dog handlers have completed therapy for abuse of methamphetamine and other addictive substances. The program lasts a minimum of 90 days -- the same length of time for the dogs' training -- and it includes ongoing meetings after they graduate. In addition to completing CLIFF, inmates in the Prison Greyhounds program can have no history or current offenses of violence, sexual violence, or animal abuse or cruelty.
The dogs remain part of the CLIFF community living unit -- a dorm occupied by 156 offenders -- for the duration of their stay. The handlers must attend training sessions and complete "homework" weekly -- a one-page observation of the dog's progress, personality and health.
When the dogs aren't with their handlers, they are in crates just inches away from the other inmates and their handler's bunks. Prison Greyhounds provides food, veterinary care, training for the handlers, bedding, and foster care if the dog isn't adopted after completing the program -- at an estimated cost of $100 a month per a dog.
A new family member
Sandra and Ryan Jenkinson are among the new "parents" of one of the rescued greyhounds. Both 25, they live in a Downtown Indianapolis condominium, with no backyard, so before they acquired a dog they researched breeds.
"We like big dogs, but we wanted something of a coach potato that suited our lifestyle," Sandra Jenkinson said. Although the dogs are known for racing, they tire quickly because they are accustomed to sprints. Some enthusiasts refer to greyhounds as the "world's laziest athletes."
On September 28, the Jenkinsons adopted one of those former athletes -- a 4-year-old named "Midnight" and promptly changed his name to "Arthur." Even before they met him, they'd fallen in love with him through photos and Facebook posts shared by Prison Greyhounds.
"We thought the program was so unique, offering a one-one-one connection between inmates and dogs," Sandra said. "He's a perfect fit for us -- adjusted so well to a downtown environment with new noises and people and walks along the canal and Cultural Trail."
Before Arthur found a new home in Indianapolis, he was in the care of Hefley, the inmate at the Putnamville prison.
"It was hard to let him go," he said, "but it gave me a good feeling to know that I can give something back to the dogs and help them recover as pets, rather than items. I realized I wasn't the one always taking."