(Christopher): I am a dog handler with 19 years of experience training dogs.
I’ve rehabilitated traumatized Pit bulls and breathed excitement and life into skittish Chihuahuas. I’ve trained aggressive Akita’s and brought order to high energy German Shepherds. And I learned how to do it all here in prison.
At Madison Correctional (MaCI) we have two dog programs, a ‘pound rescue’ program known as the Fresh Start Canine/Feline Program, and a Staff Dogs program.
I began my journey training dogs in 2007 in MaCI’s Fresh Start Canine/Feline program. The program has ties to London, Ohio’s animal shelter which sends dogs into the prison. Once here, and over the course of 3-6 months, I would train and rehabilitate them. It was common for dogs to arrive traumatized from their time at the shelter. I can’t help but notice similar parallels to life in prison. Incarcerated people endure incarceration borne traumas from the prison experience.
Once trained the dogs are put up for adoption.
At Ohio’s 3000 person women’s prison, the Ohio Reformatory for Women (ORW), there are dog programs similar to ours.
My friend Nicole Leslein is a dog handler at ORW. We share a love for the dogs and find peace and comfort interacting with them.
(Nicole): My name is Nicole Leslein and I am a dog handler with the Ohio Reformatory for Women’s Pawsabilities Dog Program. I have been a dog handler since November of 2021.
When I first got to the dog program housing unit, within minutes I wanted to move out. I felt out of place among the clickety-clicks for the women acted like they were better than everyone. The Sargent at the time talked me into staying and giving it a solid chance. I was a GED student struggling with school and it was a lot to cope with but I stayed.
(Christopher): There’s a lot of politicking that goes on in prison dog programs. The men can be self-serving adding a layer of potential frustration and stress if not actively guarded against. On more than one occasion over the years I too contemplated quitting.
Personalities notwithstanding, the pound program was the equivalent of an entry level job. Anyone with a clean institutional record was eligible, save for certain disqualifying charges.
Once I was part of the program I enrolled into the 2 year 4000 hour dog apprenticeship program to earn state recognized certification. My time in the pound program equipped me with valuable skills in training and caring for dogs. I also developed skills to interact constructively with the complex personalities of my working peers.
In 2019 my certification opened the door to the program I am currently in, the Staff Dog Program. Each dog is owned by a staffer. My certification will allow me the freedom to open my own dog related business upon release.
(Nicole): The Pawsabilities Dog Program had steps I had to take and pass to actually get an assigned dog. I took Group One and passed which took me four months. Afterward I decided to work on becoming a ‘reactive dog handler’ which deals with the more complex dogs. These are the dogs who struggle with the different stimuli they encounter in their day. I liked and looked up to my mentor. In this program we handled ‘staff’ owned dogs.
(Christopher): The Staff Dog program has been an enjoyable experience. I see a side of staff that most incarcerated people don’t see that is open and kind. Inmate, guard — we are all people. It is a hopeful feeling.
The dogs are wonderful and I have opportunity to train in addition to providing daycare and boarding services. I earn a small wage for the services I provide which amounts to pennies on the hour. Despite this my job is a privileged and coveted position. I’ve been in the Staff Dog program for 8 years. I was in the Fresh Start Canine/Feline program prior to Staff Dogs for 11 years and did the exact same work for free. The fact I earn anything is a bonus because I don’t do this for the money.
(Nicole): I eventually became a mentor in the program. The staff program at this time had 40-45 dog handlers and averaged about 28 dogs a day. It cost $5 a day to keep your dog in daycare or to board for 24 hours.
We offer a full-service groom room where your dog can get a bath (8.00-16.00 depending upon dog size); and even a haircut — anything from a simple trim to a breed cut for a poodle.
(Christopher): We don’t have a grooming service here like Nicole’s at this time. However, I bathe, groom, and clip the dog’s claws whenever needed without compensation. The dogs are like family members to those who own them, and I always try to give back more than I receive.
(Nicole): My job as a mentor was rough at times and not everyone always liked me. Some even called me “Lt. Leslein” to be funny. I am a huge animal lover and will always advocate for the animals. I can say this: I was fair and held everyone to the same standards. I created programs to help train the handlers, stayed a mentor, dog scheduler, and officer’s runner (where I was tasked with errands) for 2 1/2 years. In that time I learned a lot about being a leader, dog handler and person.
My five years in the pawsabilities Dog Program made me a better person and saved my life. It has given me purpose and is something I plan on continuing once I go home. I love the dogs and the unconditional love they give humans.
(Christopher): In prison we are faced with choices. Do we pursue values and goals that build the foundation for a new life outside where as law abiding citizens we thrive? Or do we pursue the values and ambitions of prison life where there is no future and where there is no possibility for growth nor change? I have faced push back from the men around me not in the program, for I choose a proper path.
As a dog handler I have found purpose and inspiration to be the best version of self I can be. I’ve learned how to cope with different personalities, manage my time, and effectively work with others. All of which have helped me to build a solid foundation for a successful future.
*Christopher Monihan is a writer, author, journalist, and Stillwater Award recipient. His newest book is available on Amazon.
*Nicole Leslein recently was released and is now home where she plans to open her own dog business.
Category: In This World
Prison Dogs Changed Our Lives
Hope & Joy At Prison Fest
By Christopher Monihan
“What does the sunflower on your shirt represent to you?” Says the WBNS 10 TV anchor. I’ve watched her on television for years but never imagined I’d be at a women’s prison being interviewed by her.
“It represents hope to me,” I say. “It represents a new beginning.”
I’m a Harmony Project choir singer at Madison Correctional Institution (MaCI). Today is June 02, 2026 and I’m at the 4th annual Sunflower Arts & Music Festival at the Ohio Reformatory for Women (ORW).
The festival is sponsored by Harmony and brings together three Ohio prisons MaCI, ORW and Pickaway Correctional (PCI). Columbus, Ohio based Harmony works within prisons and the Columbus community spreading a message of hope and unity through contemporary music.
“Where you are does not define who you are,” David Brown tells us. Brown is founder and director of Harmony and this refrain underpins Harmony’s prison arts program.
I’ve been a Harmony choir singer four years running. Today is my fourth time attending the festival and fourth time I’ll have presented a spoken word to the thousands in attendance.
I am filled with feelings of hope, joy, and unselfish love. The crowd is like family to me. My message today is designed to lift others and offer hope to those who have forgotten what hope feels like.
Before the day is over I’ll have spoken to the outgoing Ohio Director of Prisons Ms. Annette Chambers-Smith; the founder of Papa John’s Pizza; the CEO of Papa John’s Pizza; and the wardens of ORW and MaCI.
In the morning we gather in the ORW gymnasium along with PCI and ORW choirs. In attendance are dozens of important guests –from ODRC correctional leadership, to Harmony donors — all of whom make the day possible.
“Do you think we’ll get to see the children of Sunflower House?” I say, to my friend Corey.
“I hope so,” he says as we take seats at chairs on the gym floor.
Harmony has a longstanding relationship with the children’s Sunflower Hospice in Bloemfontein, South Africa. Last year we sang to them by video link and the children sang to us. It’s a moment that’s joyful and heavy for many of us.
In the morning the men’s choirs sing ‘Good News’ by Shaboozey and ‘Amen’ by Shaboozey and Jelly Roll to the guests and ORW choir. The ORW women sing an amazing rendition of the 70’s disco classic ‘Dancing Queen’. By the time they finish many of us are wiping away tears from our eyes.
We watch a prerecorded video from the children of Sunflower House singing and dancing for us. I can’t help but think of how there’s so much light in our world of shadows.
In the afternoon we assemble on the prison yard for a lawn concert rocking the crowd. All three choirs together sing several songs for the massive crowd. When we’re not singing several Ohio bands perform for us, cover songs the crowd knows by heart.
It is time for me to present my spoken word.
I stand upon the huge concert stage, mic in hand, big screen at my back and I look out upon the crowd. Cheerful voices reach me and waiving hands draw my attention. I can’t help but know, as every incarcerated person does, that there is a lot of trauma, longing, and sadness beneath many faces in the crowd.
My spoken word is for the outside guests in attendance who know not our struggles as incarcerated people — and for the crowd. Except, for us my message is one of hope that says, no matter who you are or what you are going through you are going to be okay. WE are going to be okay.
Shortly afterward it is time to go. The day has come to an end and we depart.
I peer through the steel mesh of the prison bus window and take in the passing countryside. I feel peace and contentment. My thoughts are on the many people I leave behind today.
For four years I have experienced this return ride back to my prison. I grow a little inside each time, but I heal more than anything.
*Christopher Monihan is a writer, author, journalist and Stillwater Award recipient. He is incarcerated in Ohio.
I Would Go Back & Meet Eve By Christopher
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
“I’m a little nervous,” says Clayton.
Clayton is a handsome young man and one of our guests tonight. I feel his nervousness when we shake hands. He is here for Kindway Embark’s monthly navigators gathering. This is Clayton’s first time stepping foot into a prison.
“There’s nothing to be nervous about,” I say, hoping to set him at ease. “You’re in for a treat tonight!”
In truth, in this moment, I feel a tinge of sadness and shame. Sad because another human being harbors fears about who I am being an incarcerated person; and, shame for having subjected another person to the consequences of my past actions.
The public harbors stereotypes about incarcerated people, stereotypes perpetrated by Hollywood movies and popular crime shows. Reality couldn’t be further from the truth. We are people who made very poor decisions in our pasts. We are brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers. We laugh and cry, hope and believe like anyone else.
We are, to put it simply, just people.
“Movies like Shawshank Redemption and popular crime shows perpetuate stereotypes about who we are,” I say, to Clayton and the other men sitting at my table – Ron, Joseph, and Miguel.
Joseph and Miguel nod knowingly.
I am engaged with numerous Columbus, Ohio based organizations dedicated to helping incarcerated people and restored citizens. These organizations exist on donations, some federal grant funding, and prayer — a lot of prayer. Kindway Embark is one of these organizations.
Tonight’s gathering is sponsored by Kindway Embark. It is part of a year long hands on mentorship aiming to grow strong Christian brothers and sisters through intense pre-release preparation. The focus is on faith based reentry success.
Tonight we are celebrating our faith. For a couple of hours we discover one another through social interaction centered around conversation, food, group games, testimony and prayer.
“Okay! Game time!” says the emcee. “We are going to play the game of ‘Would You Rather,'”–everyone erupts in laughter–” except this is the Christian version! “
“First question: Would you rather witness the Red Sea parting or Jesus walking on water?”
Immediately the room fills with animated chatter as dozens of outside guests and Kindway Embark participants discuss answers.
“I’d want to see Jesus as he walks on water,” says Clayton.
“Yeah, me too,” says Miguel.
“Yeah, I agree,” says Ron.
I find myself in the minority and second guessing my choice.
“I’d want to witness the parting of the Red Sea,” I say.
“You wouldn’t want to see Jesus walking on water?” says Miguel.
“Uh, well — yeah I would, but I think I’d like to witness the Red Sea parting that would be astounding.” I suddenly feel sheepish.
After a couple of other ‘Would You Rather’ questions my table erupts into a game of its own.
I say: “Okay, how about this; if you could go back in time and meet any one human — and not Jesus, that’s a given — who would it be?”
Someone mentions wanting to meet Abraham. Someone else mentions wanting to meet one of the biblical kings.
“I would go back in time to meet Eve,” I say. The whole table is suddenly intently focused upon my words. “I would go back to meet Eve in the moment where she reaches for the apple on the tree. I would stop her.”
“Oh, right,” says Clayton, “that’s noble!”
The others utter similar thoughts.
“She has no idea the pain and suffering she unleashed upon the world.”
There’s a brief moment of heavy gravity at the table. I break the moment by changing subjects. I talk about my 31 year journey incarcerated and how in many ways it has revealed blessings in disguise. Miguel and Joseph eagerly add in their incarceration experience.
The night wraps up with a group prayer. We form a large circle and hold hands as one individual leads the prayer.
With my head bowed and my eyes closed I think of all the Kindway Embark volunteers some of whom are restored citizens themselves. I think of tonight’s guests and I thank God for each of them: Robin, Heidi, Pat, Clayton, Tim, Preston, “Wally”, Juan, Ryan, Jeremy, Dennis, Marcus, Drennan, Mike, Emil, Randy, Ron #2, and Vance.
I have a moment of panic as I try to remember if I’m missing anyone, but I leave it to God.
Reflecting back upon the evening I feel immense gratitude. I can see the future one where I am free in a new life with my Kindway Embark brothers and sisters. Tonight I caught a glimpse of the very people that I know will be a part of it and I am grateful.
Amen.
*Christopher Monihan is a writer, author, journalist and Stillwater Award recipient. He is incarcerated in Ohio.
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Nerdgasm By Christopher Monihan
I am a nerd at heart. Science came easy to me growing up and I embraced technology. I am most comfortable surrounded by all things technological.
One of my favorite characters on Star Trek the Next Generation is “Data”. A humanoid android perfect in his ability to solve the complex but flawed in his humanity. The Artificial Intelligence (AI) that made him was brilliant, yet flawed.
I marvel at how AI is sweeping the world. For all of the anxiety AI conjures in the public psyche its promise outweighs everything. We have taken a step closer to becoming the gods ourselves.
From my caged perch in prison I observe with yearning eyes the world’s astounding technologies that were all but science fiction the last time I was in the free world. For me AI’s coming of age is the ultimate nerdgasm.
I recently experienced AI in a way that left me nearly speechless. I am a choir singer in the Harmony Project, a nonprofit out of Columbus, Ohio that comes into my prison once a week. We learn popular contemporary songs and for an hour sing together in community and shared humanity. Harmony’s message to the incarcerated is “Where you are does not define who you are”. For the past three years Harmony has brought joy to my life.
Two of the songs we are learning are all originals. When the 75 men of Harmony at my facility first heard each song, we thought they were songs from a popular artist. So when David Brown, who leads Harmony, revealed that the songs were created by Harmony using an AI application my jaw fell open. The music is indistinguishable from a top 40 hit. But none of it is real.
As I have learned both songs over the past several weeks, dozens of AI themed writing ideas sparked in my mind.
Knowing that I can literally create whatever my mind comes up with — because rest assured, AI is filling that role — fills me with an excitement unlike any I’ve ever had. The fact that I can unleash AI to compute and sort through reams of data and create accordingly per my parameters, opens doors that would otherwise have remained closed to me once I am home again. AI can become a formerly incarcerated person’s great ally and I know exactly how I would use it to help myself. I also know how I would apply it as a resource for the one million returning citizens releasing from our jails and prisons every year, both through nonprofit and for profit efforts.
I have closely followed the public release of AI and have watched as it sparks excitement and fear in people. Fear of the unknown and what people don’t understand, and excitement for AI’s promise to lift humanity.
I am old enough to remember the public’s dismay and fear over the first implanted artificial heart into a human patient. People screamed, We’re playing God! Today artificial hearts are common place. Where have all the naysayers gone?
I remember the public uproar and fear when scientists cloned ‘Dolly’ the sheep. It would only be a matter of time before people are cloned! Screamed the doomsayers. Nowadays we clone everything from plants to our own house pets. No one seems too worried about cloning anymore.
Today the naysayers are running around with their arms flailing over AI. I suspect 10 years from now we will look back upon this moment in time and shake our heads. Fast forward 50 years and I cannot begin to fathom how far society will have advanced due to AI. The scientific puzzles we’ll have solved; the drugs we’ll have created that will save millions of people, and the societal advancement that will ensue. AI is the breakthrough equivalent of the transistor or dare I say, electricity.
Focusing on the here and now AI is a blessing to the men and women who have spent decades living in cages and are now regurgitated back into a society alien from the one they remember. I can frame whatever questions I have into popular AI models and literally catch up. I can fill the knowledge void that all returning citizens have, and I can do it without shame or embarrassment. For us, everything in society is new and nothing is of old.
I have spent decades thinking about society and the broader world. I’ve spent so much time thinking and pondering that I have discovered, learned, and become –that which I have, and that which I am — brand new with eyes wide open to truths I would never have found. To say I am aware is an understatement.
Some people will refuse to accept AI no matter what. Some will fear AI for fear’s sake. Those that do will be left behind. I, on the other hand, will embrace AI at every turn.
In prison where one’s existence is measured by the passing of meal times, count times, and pages torn from calendars the promise of AI in a new life is the equivalent of leaving purgatory and stepping one foot into Heaven.
*Christopher Monihan is a writer, author, journalist and Stillwater Award recipient. He is incarcerated in Ohio.
Thank you! for following. Click on subscribe and you will be notified the moment I publish a new post. Also, my newest book, ‘Christopher And Friends: Reflections From Behind The Wall’ (ISBN: 979-8262373062) is now available on Amazon.
Living In A Purgatory World
By Christopher
*A version of this essay first appeared in Minutes Before Six
I grumbled to myself as my eyes panned the cellblock.
All around me chaos reigned. Dominoes clacked against steel tabletops and conversations competed for supremacy as each man shouted over the next.
After three decades in prison I have grown numb on the inside. I’ve witnessed men swan dive from high railings head first to the concrete below. Anything than to have served a life sentence in this Purgatory World. Tragic? I suppose, but I can’t change it. Eventually the madness takes on the form of background static and the conscious mind washes its hands of it all.
So on a sweltering day back when American troops hunted Weapons of Mass Destruction, I’d had enough. I needed a break.
I wove my way through the throngs of convicts and the incessant percussion of steel and flesh. I jerked open the heavy door to cell 168, tugged off my T-shirt and threw myself onto my bunk.
The small floor fan rattled within the heat. I had saved for a month scrubbing food trays in the kitchen to earn 17 dollars for that damned fan. At 12 inches in height, all it did was convert my tiny concrete tomb into a convection oven. I laid staring at the dusty ceiling.
My eyes finally closed. I had all but forgotten about the heat when something thumped. Prison has a heartbeat of sounds and like a beating heart anything out of rhythm stands out.
I sat up. I rubbed at my eyes and the world splintered back into focus.
Another thump. Except this time I was sure I had actually heard it. Something thumped against the wall as if someone in the cell beside mine had shoved a heavy slab of meat. “What the hell is going on?” I said aloud.
I clicked open the cell door muttering to myself. Whatever was going on in the cell next door, I had thought, better be good.
I peered through the slit window and what I witnessed stopped me in my tracks.
Two burly men punched at my 18 year old neighbor, kicked him in the groin, and threw him up against the wall. His nose gushed red.
“Shit,” I said. “They’re robbing him.”
In the free world, home invasion, when caught in progress, brings the cavalry. Police screech to a halt guns drawn and the perp gets arrested if not shot. In prison, there is no cavalry.
I lingered outside the door for what felt like an eternity. Someone inside the cell screamed. I wanted to intervene but it wasn’t my place to do so. I have learned it is wise to honor prison’s unwritten commandments. Thou shalt not stick thy nose into other people’s business.
More screaming. Something bashed into the door. I dared another glance through the window.
I noticed one of the men now laid unconscious on the floor. The other assailant’s chest heaved and his foot stumbled. Our eyes met, the kid and I, and he gave me a nod. I felt a grin crack across my face.
I went back to my cell.
I repositioned the floor fan in hopes of cool air before cursing its existence. Eventually the thumps ceased. I wondered who won the fight but realized it didn’t matter — nothing here matters. My eyes finally closed.
Alone in my cell I slept.
*Writing from prison is a difficult endeavor and it isn’t always possible to get a post up in a timely manner. For those who haven’t already subscribed, click on subscribe and whenever I post something new you’ll receive an email notice. I will soon return to a more regular posting schedule. Thank you so much for your devoted readership! I write for you. —Christopher