(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: Women Behind Bars
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.
WHY WE DON’T HAVE WOMEN’S RAZORS IN PRISON ANYMORE By Ashleigh Smith
Bic razors used to be available for purchase on the commissary, $1.40 for a pack of ten. Once broken down, the razors were often transformed into an instrument used in a myriad of unintended ways: self-harm and weapons, for instance.
In an effort to put a halt to these antics, the Department of Corrections posted a memo to inform the population of new guidelines. Bic razors were now limited to a maximum purchase of two per shop, and the new price would be $0.20 per razor.
Later that month, our 9:00 p.m. count ran exceptionally long. Then we found out why. Soon the ambulance was spotted crawling down the walkway silently, its emergency lights flashing brightly against the night sky, illuminating the situation’s urgency. A girl had taped up a bunch of blades before swallowing them one by one. She’d guaranteed herself a couple days in the hospital with good food while she recovered from the removal surgery.
Frantic to staunch the spread of potential blame leveled towards them, the Department posted a memo to inform the population of updated guidelines. Bic razors were no longer available for purchase. The population had 30 days to dispose of all razors in their possession. After the grace period, Class 1 Misconducts would be issued to all prisoners found in possession of razors.
That left the female population with two options for hair removal, both of which had qualities used as strikes against them. There was the option of an electric shaver that had largely been rebranded into a vibrator — or Magic Shave, whose label guaranteed it was “specifically formulated for black men’s facial hair.” Both left much to be desired.
The electric shaver didn’t offer a smooth shave, leaving a 2-3 day-like stubble when compared to a razor. There also were the common razor bumps that spread rash on all types of irritated skin. The batteries needed to power it were pricey, drained quickly, and often were out of stock. Even the most sparing use of the shaver resulted in a drastic dulling of the blades — blades that weren’t authorized to be switched out with the affordable replacement blades. Instead, an entire new device had to be purchased. A $23 price tag coupled with a 60-day minimum purchase process made this option decline in popularity.
That left Magic Shave, a depilatory cream that smelled like rotten eggs fused with an expired perm. Aside from the foul smell, I’m a white woman, so the body hair that I’m needing to remove is in no way consistent with black men’s facial hair. To compensate for this minor hiccup, it was soon discovered that the cream would have to be left on for an extended amount of time. I slathered the cold, obscenely smelling cream all over my body and stood still for the eight minutes (double the recommended four) needed for the cream to activate and make the alleged magic happen.
It was uncomfortable but I waited it out. As soon as the time was up, I immediately got under the shower stream to rinse it off. I began removing the cream with a washcloth and quickly noticed the hair coming off in patches and the skin that had been exposed to the cream was now inflamed to an alarming shade of red. My skin traditionally wasn’t sensitive, so I’d generously applied the cream to my very sensitive “lady parts.” For the next 48 hours, every move I made reminded me of just how sensitive said parts were. To add to the train wreck, despite damn near removing an entire layer of my skin with chemical burns, somehow my hair had only come off in a patchy mess.
This transition away from razors was forcefully implemented by the Department statewide in 2014. It took the female population an additional seven years to gain access to a woman’s specific hair removal cream (Nair). Thankfully, it works much better.
Without razor blades available to swallow, desperate women soon began substituting batteries, pencils, shattered florescent light bulbs, broken glass, shards of cement floor tiles, once even a piece of razor wire from the barbed wire fences used to cage us.
The ambulances still can been seen, lights flashing across the sky, silently waiting to ferry the swallowers off to their awaiting surgery. I’ve lost count of the instances of mutilation I’ve seen, just as I’ve lost count of the number of chemical burns I’ve suffered trying to shave.
The administration that enacted the razor ban very likely believed that they were greatly improving the safety and security of the facility. In all actuality, all they accomplished was turning the simple act of shaving into chemical warfare.
*Ashleigh Smith is a lettersfromchristopher.com contributing writer.
ASHLEIGH CORTNEY SMITH #698500
Women’s Huron Valley Correctional Facility
3201 Bemis Road
Ypsilanti, MI 48197-0911
Rebranding a Stereotype by Ashleigh Smith
There is an intentional push by many in the advocacy field to rebrand the socially accepted and preferred language surrounding identifying individuals with a conviction/incarceration history. I’m all for change that decreases marginalization towards vulnerable populations, however I can’t help but challenge this movement. I understand that the powers that be have surveyed and quantified their data and therefore feel this is an evidenced based argument but let’s really big picture this idea on a reality based scale.
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Yet Another Update on Irony by Ashleigh Smith
As many of you reading this already know, I’ve been in the process of achieving relief in the court system with my state’s Attorney General’s office through their Conviction Integrity Unit.It’s been almost two years and I haven’t filled you all in on
my progress and I haven’t filled you all in on my progress, so I thought I’d do so now. Things are
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