Indiana inmates prepare greyhounds for life beyond racing

PUTNAMVILLE, (AP) — Darren Helvey sat in the corner of the room, his concentration broken by the fidgeting of the dog at his side.

The 4-year-old retired racing greyhound named Eclipse nudged at Helvey’s hands with his graying, pointed snout. He rested his head in the bend of Helvey’s left arm.

Helvey, in his tan jumpsuit, tenderly rubbed the dog’s ears. Eclipse is the ninth greyhound that Helvey has helped transition into becoming a house pet. Eclipse also is the ninth greyhound that has helped Helvey.

“If it wasn’t for the program, it’s hard telling where I’d be in this place right now,” said Helvey, who is serving time at the Putnamville Correctional Facility for dealing and possessing methamphetamine. “I’m kind of stubborn and set in my ways, and these dogs have made me go a different direction. Instead of always turning left, I’m turning right, finally.”

The program is Prison Greyhounds. The nonprofit brings retired racing greyhounds from Florida to homes in Indiana using the Greencastle prison as a stepping stone to transition the dogs to their new lives, said the group’s president, Mary Louden. The dogs are each matched with two handlers in the prison and live with them around the clock for about eight weeks at no cost to taxpayers.

The greyhounds already are fairly socialized but need help with other things: learning how to climb stairs, how to walk on different types of flooring, how to come out of their shells.

But the dogs are not the only ones learning.

‘It’s bigger than just you’

Eric Stahl’s blood pressure has gone down. Josh Stephens said having a dog in prison is “like having a friend.” Brian Rodgers said the dogs provide a sense of comfort and a connection to life outside prison walls.

“You notice as you take them around, you know, everybody wants to pet them,” Rodgers said. “It’s like an experience you ain’t remembered for a while.”

Senior handler Hakeem Wilson, 26, said the program has “humbled” him.

Wilson was sentenced on drugs and firearms charges in 2016. He said earning the respect of the dogs and the prison employees is a welcome feeling.

“Just having people to trust you after you made mistakes,” he said.

Nearly every handler spoke about the sense of responsibility gained through the program. Wilson said he will carry that responsibility with him when he returns to his family.

“It’s bigger than just you,” he said, “getting to take care of somebody other than just yourself.”

Giving back

Founded in 2009, Prison Greyhounds brought its first group of dogs to Indiana in 2012. The program has undergone various changes but has always been focused on helping the hounds and, along the way, their humans.

There are so few foster homes available in Indiana for retired racers that the prison not only allows the dogs a chance to get used to a new environment, it also buys a little more time for the organization to find a suitable home for the dogs, Louden said.

“For every dog that we can put inside the prison, it’s one less foster home that we have to have on the outside,” she said. “So it’s one more that can make it out of the kennel, closer to a home.”

The most recent class included Eclipse, Howie, Chimera and Alexa.

Louden was quick to say the dogs aren’t being “rescued” or “rehabilitated.” They are treated well as racers and highly socialized, she said. Rather, they are adjusting to different living situations. Only the most confident dogs are placed in the prison, she said.

Both the dogs and prisoners gain confidence, she said. Department of Correction caseworkers identify offenders who they believe could succeed in the program, and the Prison Greyhounds volunteers teach them how to work with and care for the dogs.

“We can just go in there and talk to them about the dogs and give them the experience of what it means to give back to the community, to let them know that they made a difference — they really did — in this dog’s life,” Louden said.

Louden said she rarely finds out what brought the handlers to Putnamville. Many of them have been convicted of theft, robbery, drug or even more serious charges.

“Sometimes they tell us what they’re in there for,” she said. But that doesn’t really matter. “We don’t need to know.”

It’s rewarding to see the offenders open up.

“It means a lot to know that people care about them, care about their future,” she said.

‘It’s bittersweet’ Sheryl Keyes, a Department of Correction casework manager who oversees the handlers’ participation, said the greyhounds program is giving these men the chance to fine-tune life skills they will be able to use outside prison walls.

They gain team-building, organization and planning skills, she said. They learn responsibility. They “learn to care for someone that returns love unconditionally.”

Just having the dogs around helps everyone, she said.

“What I have noticed while in the program is that the dogs’ presence at the facility brings a smile to everyone and a sense of normal in the correctional environment,” Keyes said.

In a small, fenced-in yard just outside a red brick building filled with other offenders, handlers Stephens and Kyle Wilson tossed a tattered green football. Howie barreled past Chimera and Eclipse to pounce and bat the ball between his front paws.

When it was new, the ball could squeak, but Howie made quick work of destroying it, his handler, Stahl, said. Howie often tears up squeaky toys within two days — not because he is aggressive but because he is excited.

So excited that when he runs, Howie’s fast strides tear open the Velcro on his coat, which the handlers eventually ditch because he pulls it open as soon as the handlers slow him down enough to fasten the coat again.

Before taking the dogs outside, Stahl, who was convicted of murder, spoke fondly of Howie’s less-rambunctious side.

“His big, brown eyes are just as sweet as can be,” Stahl said. “They will melt you very quick. ... Everything you want in just a sweetheart of a pup.”

He acknowledged how difficult saying goodbye to their newfound companions can be, only to do it all over again once the eight-week training session ends.

“It’s bittersweet,” Stahl said. “... You get unconditional love, you give them unconditional love. You don’t like to say goodbye, but you know they’re going to a good home.”