Driving back to the office from the prison, I soak in green fields along the side of the highway and this idea of a new horizon – opportunities.

 

Everything gets replayed – the eagerness in the men’s voices, a sincerity and sweetness not unlike a child seeking approval. The way they bowed their heads when they talked about who they used to be, what they’d done. The fragile hope that flickered across some of their words, never more evident than when they talked about the dogs.

 

I see Carter telling me he loves dolphins, and Campos talking about volunteering with self-help groups for struggling inmates. I think about learning that inmates from the prison are donating more than $4,000 to the Craycroft Cancer Center at Valley Children’s Hospital.

 

I see Pillsbury kneeling proudly beside Rosie.

 

“Not only can shelter dogs be rehabilitated for society, so can we,” he says. “It just takes a few people to believe in us, that’s all it takes.”

 

And I think of all of them standing in that dirt lot like they’ve done for weeks, months, years. They’ll remain that way, some for the rest of their lives.

 

Campos is among some of the “lifers.” He says being selected for the dog training program is a dream come true.

 

“It gives us hope,” he says. “Hope of training a dog, teaching a dog, giving a dog a new home. Saving their lives. … It’s like a freedom almost. Yeah, it’s a great freedom.”

 

I think of all of these things while remembering a yard full of unwanted men and dogs.