The buildings at the women's prison in Vandalia, Mo., are painted red, and visitors sometimes remark about a resemblance to Bob Evans restaurants. It's a resemblance in color scheme only. On the day I visited last week, lunch was beef chow mein on white rice.

Although I ate in a section reserved for staff, the utensils were plastic spoon-forks, which brought to mind a story Post-Dispatch reporter Kim Bell wrote several years ago about Ocelia Blackmon, who was 84 and about to be released on parole. What I've missed most, Blackmon said, is silverware.

That would almost certainly be a minority opinion. There are so many things to miss, so many to endure.

I thought about that when Tommie Tibbetts, who is serving 25 years for murder, talked about the absolute lack of privacy. "There are always people around. The intercom is always going off. It's very stressful for dogs," she said.

For people, too, of course, but it was the dogs that George Lombardi had come to see. He is the director of the Missouri Department of Corrections. He was in charge of the division of adult institutions in 2002, when the inmates at the Women's Eastern Reception, Diagnostic and Correctional Center in Vandalia began training service dogs through a program sponsored by C.H.A.M.P. Assistance Dogs.

Not all staff members were enthusiastic about the dogs at first. Perhaps their presence would be disruptive.

But the program has been extremely successful. Dogs are about love and trust, and those are in short supply in prison. To live with and train a dog is a great privilege, and the women who live in the housing unit with the dogs are careful not to lose that privilege.

Four women share each room, and there is space for a dog's cage. "We don't have many serious violations in that unit," said Warden Cyndi Prudden.

Training a service dog takes more than a year, and much of the training is done by the women in prison. (Skills such as crossing the street are done by outside trainers.)

There is also a 12-week program for rescue dogs. The program aims to make these dogs more adoptable. There were two such rescue dogs at Vandalia this week, and while they can't do all the fancy tricks that the service dogs in training can do, the rescue dogs most intrigued Lombardi. He would like to see every prison in the state adopt a local shelter.

"If we could help the shelters get more dogs adopted, that would save the counties money," Lombardi said. "And it would be good for the prisons. Dogs can change the atmosphere of a prison."

Reuben was one of the two rescue dogs at Vandalia. He was found running along the road not far from the prison. He is being trained by Dana Ruff. She was 18 when her boyfriend killed two people in a murder-robbery in 1989. She had driven him to the couple's house. He hid in their garage for five hours. Although Ruff was not present for the murders, she received two life sentences. She is now 38. I asked her about training the dog.

"It gives me a sense of responsibility, a sense of accomplishment," she said softly. "It's good to care for a living being. It's the best thing I've done since I've been here."

The other rescue dog was Oliver. He is being trained by Alisha Kenyon. She is from St. Peters. She is 23. According to a newspaper account of her crime, she drove her boyfriend to a convenience store. He covered his face with a bandana and pulled a pellet gun from his waistband. He announced a robbery, but the clerk recognized his voice and thought it was a practical joke. The boyfriend left, but the couple were later arrested.

The boyfriend was charged with attempted robbery and Kenyon was charged with conspiracy to commit robbery. She was 19. She received an eight-year sentence. She told me she already has a parole date for next October. I asked her about training the dog.

"It has shown me how to care about someone other than myself," she said. That was especially important to her, she said, because she was pregnant when she came to prison, and her daughter was taken away shortly after her birth. Kenyon said she sees her daughter about once a month and hopes to gain custody when she is released next year.

Lombardi said some details need to be worked out on the plan to bring dogs to all the prisons. For one thing, male inmates live two to a room, and the rooms are too small to allow a dog's cage. And while the program is not expensive, Lombardi will almost certainly have to raise money privately.

The women I talked to were enthusiastic about the program. With all due respect to Ocelia Blackmon, hardly anybody in prison misses silverware the most.