IF you have travelled to Istanbul then you know residents are nuts about their cats and dogs. I learned it on my first day in 2018 when I went to visit the Blue Mosque with my hosts and saw dogs and cats relaxing on the grounds outside. One dog wandered in and was so gently escorted out. Imagine what we would have done to a dog had it happened here.

I spent the next five days in utter marvel at how residents cared for their strays. They fed them, cared for them and took them to vets — individually, or collectively as a neighbourhood. It is a subject that has fascinated visitors who photograph themselves with the more famed cats at Hagia Sophia. There are documentaries about them. My favorite are videos on YouTube of cats playing inside the mosques.

Turkiye has a fascinating relationship with dogs which dates back to the Ottomans where they were seen as “public property” according to one European diplomat, quoted in a story in the Guardian. But then a cruel culling took place under a reformist government in 1908, details of which are too painful to describe. Urban legend says that Turkish people treat dogs out of guilt for that culling, convinced they will be protected from the evil eye.

President Tayyip Erdogan passed a law in 2004 giving dogs the right to inhabit the streets. The one-time champion of the dogs now says the country has a stray dog problem and proposed a new law to allow their culling last year. That law is being challenged by lawyers, rights activists and citizens who say this goes against their street animal culture.

Training dogs will teach prisoners patience and consistency.

Undoubtedly that culture teaches love, acceptance and respecting life in all forms. It also builds community. During a freak snow shower when I was there, cafe employees scrambled to let dogs inside. No one batted an eyelid.

What does our animal street culture look like? In a word, cruel. Animal rights organisations do God’s work in Pakistan and should be recognised for their selfless service but perhaps it’s time to think of animal care from a policy perspective.

I’m here to propose a programme rooted in love and compassion but also one that can provide economic benefit and enable a huge shift in attitudes towards how we treat animals. It is a rehabilitation programme for prisoners and stray dogs.

These prison dog training programmes exist in the US, Australia, the UK, Italy, to name a few, and before you jump down my throat about this being a Western notion, let me say we have adapted many Western ideas in our everyday life. We can take inspiration from these programmes and localise them according to our sensibilities. We were not always cruel; it is reversible.

Prison dog training programmes have several benefits, primarily helping train animals for service — in security, as guards, as therapy animals or companions or as pets. Prisoners gain several skills, build their confidence and benefit from the therapeutic effects. They emerge armed with job opportunities in the animal care world. Dogs are capable of so much in the service industry aiding those with different abilities or the elderly and even helping identify health-related attacks before they happen like seizures. There is so much data to show how keeping pets can reduce loneliness, boost one’s mood, decrease the stress-related hormone cortisol and reduce blood pressure.

We have to employ animal birth control programmes so that the dogs don’t pose a public health risk. It will help change attitudes towards stray animals. We have to start somewhere.

We have that compassion as evidenced by the innumerable people who’ve risked their lives to save animals — not just livestock — during natural disasters. Those videos from the recent floods were widely sha­red bec­ause they showed comp­assion for innocent animals at a time when we ourselves had no hope.

I want to extend that humanity for prisoners who need to be rehabilitated following their release. Training dogs will teach them patience, consistency and managing emotions, and equip them for the consequences of this because the dog is dependent on them. One trainer in the US described it as “vocational training with an emotional investment that makes the lessons stick”.

There are several prisoner rehabilitation programmes in Pakistan which offer vocational skills like carpet-weaving or carpentry but prisoners struggle to find work after release. Provinces like Sindh and KP have passed laws to transform their prisons into rehabilitative spaces but I’m not sure how far they’ve progressed. As with everything in Pakistan, so much needs to be done.

Perhaps they’d be interested in partnering with animal rights organisations to consider this initiative. I would feel better knowing that we are securing futures for both prisoners and the animals who will have a purpose for themselves and society.

The writer is a journalism instructor.

X: LedeingLady

Published in Dawn, October 5th, 2025