Graterford is one of only two Pennsylvania prisons equipped to house death row inmates. It is a massive concrete, steel and razor-wire complex 3,200 felons call home. Its corridors are patrolled by 700 guards, its grounds sprawl over more than 100 acres and its residents are considered some of the most dangerous people in the commonwealth.

But there are a few men who qualify for privileges at the prison. Among the prison population, they are known as Status 4. Their sentences are nearly served and they have proven themselves to be model prisoners.

They live in a pool-table equipped cell block outside the walls and work jobs that frequently take them off prison grounds and into the civilized world.

The men work 14- to 16-hour days doing hard labor in the fields or inside machine shops and factories. Sullivan offered them an additional responsibility, and the men jumped at the chance.

"The dogs coming out of the prison are phenomenal," Sullivan said. "These guys spend 24 hours a day with their dogs, and the progress is much faster than with other trainers."

Sullivan runs Canine Partners For Life, an organization dedicated to training dogs to help people.

For the inmates, who were only permitted to give reporters their first names, the project is a golden opportunity.

"We all took from society," Anthony said. "This is us giving back."

Every inmate questioned said the dogs are teaching them patience. To a man, the prisoners said the dogs are better company than anyone else they are likely to run into at Graterford.

"He's the only one I can trust in here," Tom said as he gave Patton, a 13-month-old yellow lab, a scratch behind the ear. "He's the only one happy to see me every day."

But the friendships come to an abrupt end after one year. The dogs graduate, and are relocated to the outside world, where they receive one more year of training before they are placed with someone in need of their services.

On that day, Sullivan said the inmates work very hard to maintain the composure expected of men sentenced to hard time in one of the nation's toughest prisons.

"They're all tough that day," she said with a smile. "Everyone wears sunglasses."

But the dogs are on to bigger and better things.

Ultimately, Sullivan tries to place them with people suffering from disabilities that limit the use of their hands, arms and legs. Those suffering from epilepsy can also be helped by the dogs. These are very special dogs. Properly trained service dogs can open doors, turn lights on and off, pay cashiers and receive change, roll bedridden people over in bed to prevent bed sores, activate automatic door buttons at handicap-equipped facilities, carry groceries, turn computers on and off, hand assignments into teachers or professors and, last but not least - these dogs do laundry.

"They take the dirty clothes to the washing machine, put them in, close the door, turn the machine on, and when it's done they load them into the dryer," Sullivan said.

Sullivan started her business 15 years ago. She relies solely on donations and volunteers to train the dogs. The price tag for each dog's training and care can exceed $20,000.

Sullivan started the nonprofit business 15 years ago. Five years after that, she found herself in need of her own services. For four months, Sullivan was confined to a bed for 22 hours per day. She was diagnosed with chronic fatigue syndrome. Since then, she has survived with the assistance of a service dog.

"Nelson is my motor," she said as she pets the hefty black lab, a favorite among the inmates.

While Sullivan's dogs are trained to do extraordinary things, they are not the product of specialized breeding.

In fact, most of the dogs are rescued from shelters. Abandoned or lost, the dogs come from unknown troubles and torments, something their inmate-handlers may identify with. "We don't know a lot about their backgrounds," Sullivan said.

n n n To help Sullivan help people who need service dogs, donations can be made at her Web site, www.k94life.org.