Clines met his maker in the death chamber the next night, but his wishes did not die with him. Over the next few years Rule raised the funds and cut the red tape to build a simple chapel in the state’s Varner Unit prison. When the small, cinderblock building was completed, she placed a sign over the door that says, “Bless all who enter.” To the prisoners Rule’s act of kindness seemed almost unbelievable, but to the missionary’s daughter it was nothing more than living out the biblical passage that had defined her parents’ life and work—Matthew 25:35-40.
“For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.”
“Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’
“The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’”
Rule could have walked away after constructing the chapel, but she didn’t. Instead she began to look deeply into the prison system. As she went behind the walls and observed what life was like in this sterile, loveless, and often brutal environment, she saw things others on the inside and outside missed—potential and hope. And she had seen those same qualities in another very sad place she had visited—the local animal shelter. Rule wondered what would happen if she could find a way to take people no one believed in and connect them to dogs no one wanted. After putting the concept into a detailed plan, she set a goal of making it happen.
Rule took the idea to Governor Mike Beebe, and the dog owner immediately approved it. She then went to Arkansas Department of Corrections Director Ray Hobbs with her plan, and he embraced it. Then it was time to really get the ball rolling. After a team studied the Missouri Department of Correction’s Puppies for Parole program and Rule raised the money through private donations to fund the program, Paws in Prison was born. It had taken years of work and planning, but Rule had found a way to give unwanted dogs a second chance at life and provide unwanted people an opportunity to find purpose.
As per Rule’s original vision, Paws in Prison partners with shelters and rescue groups to bring unwanted dogs into prison to live with the inmates. The inmates and dogs work with professional dog trainers once a week and then practice the skills they have learned between sessions. The training goes well beyond house breaking, socialization, and basic obedience work. Dogs are also taught to read commands and respond to flash cards, help with taking off jackets and untying shoes, turn light switches on and off, and retrieve a wide variety of household items. Their training is so extensive some of the dogs graduate knowing more than a hundred different commands.
The men and women who train these dogs also have to meet rigid standards. They must live up to a certain code of conduct and work well with others. They must prove their kindness and respect for the prison staff before they are given an animal. Some of those who have stepped into the role of dog trainers have long rap sheets that include crimes such as murder and kidnapping. Many were once considered men and women who could not be reformed or rehabilitated. That all changed when the dogs came to visit. The convicts in this program live to love, and the dogs they train take that love to the world in a wide variety of remarkable ways.
One canine graduate of the program is now assisting a boy who has cerebral palsy and uses a wheelchair. Another attends college with her wheelchair-bound adopted mom. Several dogs are used in reading programs in elementary schools and others have become the hands of men and women badly injured in war. They are pets and therapy dogs. They serve in homes and hospitals. They are teachers and mentors. And this transformation from unwanted and discarded dog to valued family member of society began under the tutelage of people most had deemed worthless.
The program Rule was inspired to create now operates at the Maximum Security Unit at Tucker, the Ouachita River Correctional Unit in Malvern, the North Central Unit at Calico Rock, Randall Williams Correctional Facility in Pine Bluff, and the Hawkins Center for Women in Wrightsville and the Tucker Unit. This program has saved hundreds of dogs from euthanasia while touching thousands of human lives. Yet what these unwanted canines have done outside the walls pales in comparison to what they have accomplished inside the prison units. Their impact behind the bars goes beyond heroism and into the area reserved for miracles.
She was an attractive, dark-haired woman with little hope and less direction and had already served a fifteen-year stretch when she saw the first dog brought into her prison unit. The diminutive, slightly built young woman, who had literally lived half her life behind walls, was suddenly flooded with long-forgotten memories of one of the few happy moments from her troubled youth. In a life filled with abuse and neglect, there had been a single steady friend she could trust—a stray dog that had somehow found and befriended her. As she studied the wagging tail and happy face of the new prison arrival, she wondered if the spirit of the dog that had once loved her unconditionally could be found in this visitor too.
The female prisoner met with Rule and the professional trainer and asked to be placed in the Paws in Prison program. When accepted, she quickly proved to be more than just a solid trainer; she was gifted. While behind bars she prepared animals as pets and assistance dogs and grew so good at her craft she was certified as a professional canine trainer. When this once-directionless woman left prison, she immediately found work with one of the nation’s top pet supply companies as a master trainer. The dogs who lived in prison with her did not just give her a reason to live, they paved a new life filled with purpose and joy.
Another miracle happened when a big, broad-shouldered solemn man with a deep sadness in his eyes saw the dogs first walked into his unit. This middle-aged ex-Marine had once served his country with honor and had been recognized as one of his nation’s finest soldiers. Yet after he returned from several tours in the Middle East, he had problems dealing with everyday life. An anger and rage that he could not control began to boil in his gut. He fought demons he could not see or understand, and one night he didn’t walk away from a confrontation and killed a man.
Locked away in prison with little hope of ever tasting freedom again, the former Marine was eaten up with guilt. Deeply troubled by the shame he had brought to his family and the branch of the service he had been so proud to call his own, he could barely look at himself in the mirror. Worst of all, there was nothing he could begin to do to once again serve others in a positive way.
Paws in Prison gave the brooding man something to focus on. When he asked if he could become a part of the program, he was told he could earn his way there through his attitude and behavior. He did. And now the man who will never again taste freedom trains dogs for roles as assistants to other Marines who came back from war severely handicapped. His trained canines are opening doors and providing new opportunities for men and women who had thought their lives were over.
Another of the program’s remarkable trainers was in his fifties when he saw his first Paws in Prison dog. Short, graying, slightly stooped, the man had spent almost his entire adult life behind bars. Because of three different violent crimes, he knew he would not get out from behind the walls until he died. With this depressing reality holding him in a vice-like grip, he had given up. Over the past decade he had even lost his ability to walk and now had to use a wheelchair. He was totally dependent upon the staff and other prisoners for even his most basic needs.
When those around him began to train dogs, he asked the warden if he could become a part of the program. The answer was an immediate no. A man in a wheelchair could not do what was necessary to train a dog to be a service animal or even a pet.
A month later this now-determined man stood for the first time in a decade and took his first steps in a walker. When he found out that was not enough, he worked harder. In just eight weeks he was walking. A month later he was able to run and he earned his way into the program.
This lifer has trained half a dozen dogs that have become incredible family pets. He has worked with small animals and big ones, those that were high energy and those that moved slowly, shy dogs