Heather Logan watches carefully as her students lead stray dogs through obstacle courses, teach them how to perform tricks and train them to obey commands.

"Most of our dogs come from humane societies or rescue organizations. For the most part, they have 72 hours after being picked up before they're euthanized. So they're basically, as the women say here, on death row. They're rescuing these dogs from death row," said Logan.

But she's also being watched by security guards. Her lesson is taking place at the Nova Institution in Truro, N.S., a federal prison for women in Atlantic Canada.

Logan is one of the top dog trainers in the country. In the last decade, the number of female inmates has more than doubled. Six years ago, Corrections Canada asked her to develop a program that would help rehabilitate female offenders. Her answer? A program called Pawsitive Directions.

"There is no punishment. If the dog makes a mistake, they just simply did something wrong, so we use a clicker, and the clicker tells the animal when it did something right. The women benefit from this type of training because it gives them the ability to make decisions. And if they can make good decisions, they then can have some power over their own life," said Logan.

These death row dogs are trained by inmates, like Heather Watkins, and then are returned to the community as pets, or to help the elderly or disabled.

Watkins is a single mother of two, who used to own her own craft store. She is serving a life sentence for second-degree murder and won't be eligible for parole until she has spent 11 years in jail. It's a life that she says is far from easy.

"This is the second chance for the dogs. And it's giving us a second chance, too. They don't know that we're inside the walls, and they can't judge us as human beings, so therefore they're looking at us as the person that we are, not as what we're in here for or the crime that we committed. We're just the human being that has them as a companion. Our chance is with this program. When we leave here, we are leaving as credited dog trainers," said Watkins.

Inmates first learn how to work with Heather Logan's dogs, then they can earn the privilege of training a shelter dog.

"When the program first started, there were concerns among the staff that the women might train the dogs to attack, and it took time and experience for everybody to become comfortable with the fact that this can't happen. Dogs learn by repetition. If a woman was going to train a dog to attack, she would have to do a lot of training, and somebody would notice," said Logan.

But not everyone is convinced about the long-term benefits of the program.

"Pet therapeutic programs in prison are recognized as being a management tool to improve the atmosphere of the prison, to make the inmates happier, to improve their self-esteem and their sense of well being," said Bayes.

Shawn Bayes is Executive Director of the Elizabeth Fry Society, which helps female inmates re-enter the community.

"We're not training them in occupations that will earn them a living," said Bayes.

At the Burnaby Correctional Centre for Women in British Columbia, they're trying to prove Shawn Bayes wrong. Here, they've combined their dog program with a business.

Freedom Kennels is the only kennel in Canada where the public brings their dogs to be groomed, boarded, or trained behind prison walls.

"I think it's really important to have these kinds of programs inside institutions, because many of the women who come in have had little or no work experience," said Jayne Nelson, the coordinator of Freedom Kennels.

Women like Rachel Kleven, in jail for second-degree murder, work for the kennel.

When Kleven was 18 years old, her life changed dramatically. She and her boyfriend were convicted of murdering his mother. Kleven was sentenced to life with no parole for 12 years. Now 25, she will be in jail until she's in her early 30s.

"There's a sense of responsibility, and the more you learn how to work with the dogs, and they respond to you and they're happy to see you, then it's sort of a confidence builder," said Kleven.

Everywhere there are reminders that they're in prison. One hundred and twenty cameras monitor the inmates' every move. Women say working in Freedom Kennels helps them forget they're in jail.

"I understand why people would say, 'Well, they've done these terrible things so they don't deserve to play with dogs,' and the reality is whether they like it or not, everyone in here is going to be back out in society. So why wouldn't they want those people to be able to heal as much as possible while they're here," said Kleven.

Another community project involves the prison taking in dogs from shelters like the SPCA.

"The SPCA approached us a couple of years ago about doing some rehabilitative training on dogs who are maybe a little harder to adopt, and then the dog goes back for adoption. We've had a 99% success rate," said Nelson.

Several inmates hope to get a job in the pet industry, like former inmate Brenda Hawkes, who graduated from Freedom Kennels two years ago. In six years, she was in and out of prison 18 times.

"I felt good about myself, accomplishing these things. I started to feel the self-respect and the self worth, and that's why I'm a groomer today. That's my profession. I'm a productive member of society. I don't live on welfare. I have a job," said Hawkes.

For Nelson, the success of the program goes even beyond how many women develop a career in dog training and grooming.

"There are an equal or much greater number of women who have gone on and successfully gained employment in other fields. I think that learning how to be a good employee, and having a good work ethic, and learning about responsibility and accountability, learning that there's hope, that you can change your life, those are important skills to have. I think that that's probably the most important thing that women leave this program with," said Nelson.