Last Wednesday, and again this morning, my Therapy Dog Sunny and I went to a different venue, to spend the morning offering encouragement and comfort, and doggie love, to those who needed it.

Not a day program for young disabled people, not a cancer wellness centre, not a hospital, and not aged care. Different altogether. Our role was for the dogs to meet the mental health needs of staff at this new place, and to offer joy in that special way that dogs are gifted at doing.

We were greeted once again by faces with eyes widening in delight, smiles from ear to ear – yes, even shrieks of surprise and pleasure, and the staff descended on the dogs with great joy, offering pats and cuddles. Our dogs must be able to accept noise and excitement and being touched and handled by an almost non-stop procession of hands. It can be a bit overwhelming for them sometimes.

Photos were taken of the five dogs, the three smaller ones being held closely and lovingly by beaming clients, and the two big dogs at either end with other clients. We owners watched on proudly, reassuring our dogs that all was well, and they were okay being hoisted up in the arms of strangers! These photos were to go up the chain to their director, so she could see how appreciative they all were.

Last week one staff member commented to me that this was the best experience her workplace had offered in eight years. Really? That was a bit of a shock to me, for we were there for only two hours.

Today seemed to go well too, and yet I came away feeling quite sad, for those who needed us most were not visited, and despite their pleas, despite their faces smiling with excitement and pleasure, we did not go to them. We were not permitted to, and probably won’t ever be offered that opportunity.

So … where were we?

We were at the Women’s Prison.

We had been through security checks at the entrance, having locked away our Fitbit watches, phones and keys, and passed through numerous double-locked gates and enclosures with airlocks at either end. It was a confusing maze – but we had a Correctional Services escort with us at all times.

Even when a dog required a bathroom break and needed one of the scarce patches of real grass – the owner and dog had to be escorted there and back. It was certainly not a place where one could just quickly slip out.

Those eager, smiling faces of the ones not visited? The ones who could not receive a cuddle with a dog? They were medium and high security prisoners.

While we were visiting staff in the control centre, with computer screens displaying views of every area of the whole prison, a medical alert siren went off and action was immediate. We left, so the situation could be quickly and appropriately addressed.

We entered one courtyard area just as the laundry “ladies” had finished their work and were wheeling their laundry carts back toward the cell blocks. They tried to linger and loiter – and we had to hang back. We smiled and waved but were not permitted to engage with them.

We visited another staff area – again, it was for staff only to interact with the dogs. It was a central area between two wings. News must have travelled fast! The inmates quickly gathered at the doors on either side.

The prisoners called to the dogs, squeezing their fingers under the doors hoping for a doggie lick. Some looked so young, all looked excited to see us – through steel mesh doors or through reinforced glass doors. All begged us and the staff to let them pat our dogs – but we had to follow the protocols.

The staff were pleasant but firm, both towards the prisoners and towards us. They allowed a little conversation between us and the prisoners, through those impenetrable doors, and a quick close-up view of each dog. I could see the prisoners’ longing, and their deep yearning to pet the dogs.

We were permitted to say hello, talk with them about the dogs, their names, ages, and breeds, but they could not touch. Some seemed to relate well with Sunny because he was the only rescue pet, and also because he was the only one without any pedigree. No impressive background. Perhaps they felt some sense of identifying with him. They could relate.

Some of these were women who had abused or killed people, including children, and also including animals. Many had mental health problems; some were unpredictable and could switch in an instant to wild or violent behaviour.

I asked if the prisoners could be screened so that “suitable” ones could have a supervised visit with a dog, one at a time, as a reward for good behaviour, perhaps at some point in the future. Extremely unlikely – that would provoke jealousy between inmates, and there’d be fights between the lucky ones who got to pat a dog and the unfortunate ones who’d missed out. It’s a different world.  

Each one of these women has a story, and I couldn’t help but wonder about their stories. What had happened for them to end up here?

Had they ever known love or happiness? Had they been abused as children? Had they been rejected by people they thought they could trust? Did they have no appropriate supports in moments of difficulty? Had they been insecure and found friendship amongst drug addicts? Had they been “normal” people who had lost control and snapped in a half-hour of rage, a short moment of time which would affect their whole lives?

Whatever they have done, they are paying a heavy price for their crime. They can’t even have a “proper” conversation with an outsider. And they can’t even pat a dog.

I will never know their stories. But what I saw there were young women who needed love. They don’t need our moral judgment. It is not our role to judge. They need care and compassion. To me they were not to be hated and feared, they were real people, ordinary young women who need love, forgiveness, and a new start.

Next Wednesday is the last day of the four-week program for the staff well-being. Yes, the staff were very appreciative, but I can’t help but feel that a supervised program of learning to love and care for a dog would be wonderfully healing for these inmates – or at least some of them.

I hope that their training programs will be effective, and lead to behavioural change, and I pray that for some young women at least the lessons they learn in prison will result in a productive life later on.

I am sure that some will want a dog when they are released. Why? Because dogs don’t judge. A dog’s undivided love and loyalty is a free gift. Perhaps a dog will offer them a chance to learn how to give and receive love, as well as a chance to learn responsibility. An opportunity for a new start.

We could not take photos of course, but seeing the excitement and pleasure on those smiling, eager faces of the young women prisoners was moving and will remain on my heart. Just a few minutes of something special – even at a distance and through steel doors – when every day is much the same … it’s not much to offer, but I am glad we went. I enjoyed being with the staff, but my heart went out to those women behind bars.