Six Feet Kissing The Earth: Prison Dogs and a Path to Peace

By Israel Gross

Every day in jails and prisons across globe, hundreds of inmates are training dogs to become service animals.
As the assistance dog industry relies more and more on prison dog training programs there are thousands of lives being changed through these unlikely partnerships. Six Feet Kissing The Earth is one prisoner's testimonial to the transformative power of these programs. Part training manual, part meditation on inner peace, this book is a journey of self-discovery and mindful living.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tablo Publishing
• Release date: Feb 25, 2022
• ISBN: 9781685832803

Book preview

Prelude

The snow was slowly covering our tracks. Fat, wet flakes parachuted towards the earth through the softest whisper of a breeze, gently filling our fresh footprints layer by fragile layer. I stopped to adjust my scarf, and the rhythmic jingling of collar tags that accompanied my steps instantly ceased as well. I smiled, knowing that the yellow dog by my right side was paying close enough attention to my pace that our movements were as one. I reached down and slid my hand over his head and down to his tail, swiping off a fresh layer of snow.

It's beautiful out here, I commented with equal reverence for the crisp December night, the sight of powdered pines nearby, and the simple pleasure of my present company.

He looked up at me, cocked his head to the left, as is his custom, and executed a full body shake. Snow flung in every direction, including just enough to speckle the lenses of my glasses. I could discern neither agreement nor dissent from this response; however, I sensed a contentment within my companion that matched my own.

I turned to afford myself a full sweep of our surroundings and, looking back at ground we'd just covered, I saw a perfect set of six feet leading up to where we now stood. Two boots walked side-by-side with four paws in a trail that faded into the distance and the elements.

The sight of our steps together stirred up a familiar nostalgia, and I found myself recalling not only the day I met this exceptional dog (he was four months old, rail thin, and bouncing around the room) but also revisiting many of the milestones that we'd reached together along the way. In just under a year, we'd made incredible progress as a team and had undeniable success shaping many of the behaviors necessary for his future as an assistance dog. Whether it was a foundation skill to be built upon in myriad ways, an advanced skill honed to near perfection, or a crowd-pleasing trick, no challenge proved impossible, no goal unattainable.

My pride at his growth and maturity was substantial, but it paled in comparison to the love and affection that I felt for this good friend. We'd been inseparable for months. Where I went, he went. If he stirred in the night, I awoke. When I felt under the weather, he kept a watchful eye on me. We shared a powerful bond rooted in trust, communication, and acceptance.

Our time together was nearing an end, and while my heart ached to contemplate his departure, I knew that he was ready. I knew that he was as well prepared for a life of service as any puppy I'd ever seen, and that he was destined to be the difference between Before and After for someone out there right now. Someone wondering if his or her life will ever change or wondering how an assistance dog could possibly provide that change.

I looked down at him with tears blurring my vision, and I met his gaze.

In his eyes, those runaway thoughts of the past and of the future, that pride and joy, those fears and worries, and the sorrow of goodbye all but disappeared. It was there in the dog's eyes that I found a quiet peace and I came back to a practiced reminder:

Breathing in, I am dwelling in the present moment.

Breathing out, I know this is a wonderful moment.

Breathing in.

Breathing out.

Present moment.

Wonderful moment.

I smiled again and wiped the tears from my cheeks. With the snow falling all around us, I turned my attention back to the path that lay ahead.

Let's go, I said, and together we continued our walk.

I walked slowly and deliberately, aware of my breathing. With each step, I became more present, enjoying the simple act of lifting my feet and placing them back on the earth, enjoying the sound and sensation of snow crunching underfoot.

I closed my eyes.

I knew our path well and could afford a few steps this way.

I directed my awareness to my breathing. Breathing through my nose, I felt the cold air travel to my lungs, refreshing me. I breathed a little deeper with each breath, and I timed my steps to my inhale and my exhale.

COURTYARDS ARE CLOSED! COURTYARDS ARE CLOSED! RETURN TO YOUR UNITS!

The shrill blast from four loudspeakers mounted to a thirty-foot-high guard tower ripped through the night and assaulted my ears.

I sighed, opened my eyes, and adjusted our route towards the center fence that divided the prison yard.

Together we walked back to our housing unit.

1

There are people in this world who are forever changed by the dogs that come into their lives.

Dogs occupy such a sacred place in the hearts of so many humans that it is hard for these people to imagine what their lives would have been like without the connections that they formed with their canine counterparts.

Dogs have played a unique and pivotal role in the spiritual nourishment of desperate and searching people who went through life feeling a certain emptiness, yet didn't know exactly what was missing until a dog came along and retrieved it for them. There are endless stories of dogs helping mournful people heal after great personal loss, and there are a multitude of dogs who have enabled other people, living for years with unrealized potential, to discover elements of their character that would have been impossible to reveal without the bond that they shared with those animals.

There are profound life lessons that many humans would have never learned had it not been for the guidance and companionship of dogs. Whether it was through a career working with a wide variety of dogs, or just from living with one special pet, the people who fit this description, the ones who read this and nod their heads knowingly, these are people whose lives are significantly better because of their relationships with dogs. Their lives are fuller and richer; they count themselves lucky to have been allowed to share a life with dogs.

I am one of those people.

Growing up, I never had a pet dog.

My mother was a cat person, and my father, because of allergies, has always preferred his animals at a safe, sanitary distance.

As a child, I lived for a few years with my uncle, Dean, whose right-hand man was his beloved mutt, Gauguin. Gauguin, as I remember him, was a temperamental, undisciplined brute prone to escape. Given an opportunity, he would bolt out the backdoor of our grandparent's home, flee down the street, and outrun uncle Dean's Volkswagen beetle for impressive lengths before being captured and corralled back behind closed doors. I remember being initially enamored with him, as most children are with dogs, but as he aged and grew ever rougher around the edges, he was less kid-friendly and a little scary.

On the topic of scary, my Grandma Lopez's dog was a cantankerous chihuahua named Oesos (Bones in Spanish). Oesos was, pound for pound, the most intimidating dog that I've ever met. Chihuahua or not, Oesos was the boss and he let everyone know it.

Besides the occasional pet owned by a friend or girlfriend, Gauguin and Oesos were the extent of my close experience with dogs. Dogs were always around, but without any reason to truly consider them as a species, they faded into the background of everyday life and any understanding I had of them was typically naive and misguided. I accepted most of the common knowledge surrounding dogs and didn't appreciate them as anything more than simple animals.

I have since learned that my attitude towards dogs and my ignorance of their true nature was by no means unusual. Despite thousands of years of living alongside dogs, our collective consciousness regarding Man's Best Friend is woefully uninformed. The vast majority of people are indoctrinated into a popular approach to dogs rooted more in folklore and superstition than in science or reality, and most of us never find a reason to question that status quo.

My reintroduction to dogs came twenty-one years into a life sentence in the Wisconsin Department of Corrections.

In late 2014, I found myself at Jackson Correctional Institution (JCI), a medium security prison nestled in the forests of rustic Black River Falls, Wisconsin. Having spent the previous two decades in maximum security prisons, I had served enough time and maintained enough positive conduct to finally warrant a reduction in custody level and a transfer to less restrictive housing.

Adjusting to the new level of freedom that a medium