Day 114: "Learning to Heel"

Camp Devens: It used to be a country club. Now it’s a federal camp. The signs were still there, but the game was gone—replaced by a new kind of training. Day 114 in the yard with Topper and Webster.

Actual Entry - 10/14/21 - THURS

Awake at 5:30, back to the old schedule, must be getting institutionalized. H/L/R drink, meds, sent Mom a couple emails. She moved the side by side back to her place, not sure why. She won't use it. I hope she doesn't sell it, but if she does, she does. Just get motivated to buy my own.

LUNCH: Bone-in Fried Ck, SALAD, BP.

Dog class, the main teacher was in, she wanted to know who wanted puppies, ugh, decisions, I don't think I'm ready and there are others better qualified And I don't know if I could handle passing off the dog when the time came. Lunch was hell, when is this inspection gonna be over? Jesus, Fucking with my world. Went outside, hung out with E.D. Topper & Webster. Of course it turned into an A.K. situation. Anyway, on the fence, on the full-time training.

SUPPER: Hot dogs, tater tots, 1 Roll in reserve.

Down in deep depression, not sure why, maybe the Dad thing. He called the camp today wanting to visit. Ugh, I'll call him in the AM. Coming up on 4 months since I arrived here. And 10 months since my sentencing, something should be happening soon. Trying to come to grips with the fact I may be for 3/4 years is very strange. Then again, I've gotten this far, you have to ask yourself who is con A, and why did he get away? I'm going the opposite direction, I'm fighting the copyright battle with everything I got publicly and currently the WTR, but they're gonna know what I'm doing they must. And it must mean something or they would just reveal it, what to fuck could they be waiting besides covering their shitty, possibly illegal moves.

Four Years Later (Retrospective)

"By Day 114, the 'Inspection Day' jitters were rattling the camp like shockwaves, but the arrival of a new Dog-Class Instructor offered a strange kind of shelter. Initially, I just wanted to 'skate'—to learn the basics, help the handlers, and hang out with the puppies without taking on the full weight of the responsibility. C.C. laughed at me: 'Once she meets you, she’ll make you a full trainer.' He was right.

Because of COVID, the program was skeletal—down to two dogs, Topper (a black lab handled by E.D.) and a Golden Retriever (handled by C.C.). Seeing the program devastated by the pandemic was just another reminder of how much the world outside and inside had withered.

But as the days went on, I stopped trying to skate and started leaning in. It became the high point of my entire 'career' behind bars. I’d be out on the grass with E.D., getting early pointers, trying to master the craft, until the inevitable 'know-it-all' would wander over and take over the conversation. It was frustrating, but it was also life.

I was struggling with the 'dark times'—depression, medication that didn't work, and the weight of the sentencing—but that yard became my pharmacy. I realized the dogs and I were in the same boat: incarcerated, waiting, and trying to make the best of a confined existence. We were all just learning how to heel."

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