Block E at State Correctional Institution Fayette is home to 220 men. They live in 77-square foot cells, equipped with two twin bunk beds, a sink and toilet in the doorway, one window (about the width of a forearm), some personal items like books or small TVs, and, for a select few, a dog crate.
SCI Fayette was one of the last prisons in Pennsylvania to employ a dog program in 2017 — now, six dogs reside there alongside their trainer companions. Through these programs, inmates train puppies to become service animals or help shelter dogs prepare for adoption. D.A.W.G. (Developing Animals with Goals), SCI Fayette’s program, is the latter.
Katie Vecchi, Chief Shelter Operations Officer at Animal Friends, tells Pittsburgh City Paper that handlers go through a six-week behavioral training program, monthly seminars, and one-on-one coaching. Some matchmaking is involved, as shelter staff gets to know the handlers and their personalities better.
James K., 47, is often matched with dogs that need extra attention and training (City Paper is withholding inmates’ full names out of respect for their privacy). He entered the program in 2018, shortly after arriving at SCI Fayette on various drug-related convictions. “The dog program has been life-altering for me,” he tells CP. “It’s a shot at redemption. My way of making up for what I’ve done.”
After a pause during the COVID-19 pandemic, D.A.W.G. returned in 2022 in collaboration with Animal Friends, a no-kill shelter in Ohio Township, located 57 miles from the prison. This was Animal Friends’ first inmate program, but not the last — in June they sent 2-year-old Ethel, a 38-pound mixed breed, for a pilot program with Allegheny County Jail.
At SCI Fayette, Animal Friends places up to six dogs at a time. Some dogs have behavioral or health issues that need attention, such as separation anxiety or special diets, but, to be selected, they all need to be tolerant of other dogs, strangers, and noises.
Inmates must meet the following requirements to join D.A.W.G.: no offenses related to animal abuse, child abuse and/or sexual abuse; no misconduct on record in the past year; and a history of positive interactions on the block.
While in prison, James K. has cared for 17 dogs, including tougher cases like Rubicon, who, he says, was extremely stressed in the shelter environment. Rubicon was on humane investigations (HI) hold when he arrived at SCI Fayette. HI cases can take years to resolve if defendants don’t settle, placing HI dogs in limbo.
Knowing Rubicon’s needs, Vecchi placed him with James K. Within a few weeks, he was like a new dog. After many months, Rubicon was eventually adopted by an SCI Fayette staff member.
When James K. is released in his late 50s, he wants to become a professional dog trainer and use his experience with challenging dogs.
“Seeing the complete 180 is the best part,” James K. says. “It’s more about them than about me.”
James B. tells CP that prison “shows you how selfish you can be,” and working with dogs helped him become more self-aware. “Before, it’s all about me, me, me. But it’s not all about you,” because now, it’s about taking care of a dog in need, he says.
The 45-year-old was convicted of assault and could get out as early as 2030. Until then, he’s focused on bonding with his four-legged cellmates and preparing them for adoption. He works at the infirmary and, after a tough day, his current dog, Brighton, always lends a listening ear.
Rebecca Palmer, E Block Unit Manager at SCI Fayette, says the handlers develop “a genuine care for something outside of themselves. And that is such a huge thing in this environment.”
The dog program gives them goals and fosters a sense of pride. However, she believes “lifers.” — inmates serving life sentences for murder — stand to benefit the most from D.A.W.G. “This could be the most important thing to these guys.”
Brian, a reserved, soft-spoken man, was reluctant to talk to CP about himself or his case. He did, however, want to talk about his dogs. He’s new to the dog program, six months in. It was six months ago that he petted a dog for the first time in more than 30 years.
He perked up describing Hoppin’ John, a grey and white mixed breed with a harrowing backstory. Hoppin’ John was a stray, hit by a car and found along the roadside. After an operation that removed his back hip socket, Hoppin’ John was practically good as new, other than a slight hop in his gait.
Palmer and Brian speculate that the accident left Hoppin’ John with a fear of wheels, something they hope to resolve.
Brian gives Hoppin’ John a treat when he follows the “leave” command successfully. It’s very different, he says, “to have the responsibility to take care of something other than yourself.”
Brian says Hoppin’ John is active, rambunctious, and loving. He helps Brian deal with the stress of imprisonment, which can be overwhelming at times. But when Hoppin’ John curls in his lap, it soothes many difficult emotions.
Dorian, 47, another lifer in D.A.W.G., has spent two-thirds of his life in prison after being sentenced at 16. He describes prison as “inhumane, in general,” and says, “as time goes on, you get hard.”
Dorian tells CP his early prison life was filled with aggression and violence, which led to a two-year stint in solitary confinement in the late ’90s. The hole, as he calls it, “changes you as a person.”
While in solitary confinement, he was permitted one hour a day outside in the “dog cage,” a fenced space for each individual solitary confinement cell. He passed the time reading books on psychology, law, politics, and history, waiting for the day he’d be allowed back in the general prison population. When that day came, Dorian was nervous, going from virtually no human contact to hundreds of people at once.
He describes the reintroduction to dogs in a similar vein.
Like Brian, Dorian hadn’t petted a dog in more than three decades. He was apprehensive at first but eventually wanted his own dog. He got his first match, Noel, in 2021, and quickly learned he has a soft spot for little dogs.
“It helped me more than I thought it would,” he says. “What’s more humane than being around animals?”
Dorian will go before the parole board for the first time in 2028. If his release day ever comes, he says he needs to be prepared for the “real world.” Reacclimating to animals is one way he’s preparing for life on the outside. But more importantly, he says the dogs provide relief from the realities of prison.
“In a place like this, you need something to give you peace of mind.”
This article appears in Jul 16-22, 2025.
