-PREVIEW: “SPEAK DOG”- A Story Born Behind Bars-

Quick Update from Noél:

I’ll be completely honest—when Brett and I decided to move forward with this SPEAK DOG project, I was nervous, overwhelmed, and so intimidated. I’ve never published a book before, and with Brett in prison, just finding time to breathe—let alone edit a manuscript—felt impossible. The idea of somehow pulling this together in my “spare time” felt daunting.

But then everything changed the moment I opened the first few pages Brett sent me.

GOD IS SO GOOD!

From the very first paragraph, I knew this book was different.
SPEAK DOG is not just about training a dog—it’s about transformation.
It’s raw, honest, and deeply spiritual.
It’s about how God can take what was meant for evil and turn it into something beautiful.

When you read it, you can feel the walls of that cold, dark prison cell. You can see Brett kneeling beside Mr. Conrad, finding hope, healing, and purpose in the most unlikely place.

There’s just something special about this book—it hits different. It changes you. It speaks to the soul.

Please take 5 minutes to read part of Brett’s SPEAK DOG manuscript below and see exactly what I mean. 

Without further adieu here is: 

 

SPEAK DOG 

Written by: The Prison Puppy Trainer

Published by: Proud Prison Wives

An Important Note From Noél

SPEAK DOG is incredibly special to me as a prison wife and mother of four. Every page of this book was originally handwritten by my husband, Brett, inside a federal prison cell. Each morning, around 3 a.m., before the rest of the prison would wake, Brett would quietly rise in the darkness and begin writing letters to me. In those letters, he shared the powerful, breakthrough dog-training techniques he was learning through his service dog apprenticeship, but these letters were not just about training dogs. Each page captured the transformation of a man rediscovering his faith, his purpose, and his identity through unconditional love.

To write each page, he had to search the prison for scraps of paper and pencils with just enough lead left to write. Despite lockdowns, strip searches, shakedowns, and the daily pain of incarceration, Brett completed the original SPEAK DOG manuscript. The dark walls of prison could not stop us from sharing the SPEAK DOG story.

Brett is my forever person, my rock, and I love him more than words can ever express. It is my most profound honor and privilege to take his handwritten prison letters and officially publish them into this one-of-a-kind book called SPEAK DOG.

This book isn’t simply a guide to train your dog—it’s a story of hope in the hardest places, a reminder that God’s light can break through even the thickest walls, and a testament to the power of grace to redeem, restore, and rebuild. You are about to read a beautiful, inspiring book born of pain and brokenness.

Please know that Brett and I are praying for you and your family right now. We have learned the hard way that almost everyone is going through some kind of pain, trauma, or crisis. Just know this: YOU WILL GET THROUGH IT. God will take what is meant for evil and turn it into something good—if you let Him. My family and SPEAK DOG are living testimonies of God’s goodness.

You might not see it yet, but someday your pain will become someone else’s path to healing. Whatever you’re facing—whatever shame, heartache, or uncertainty—GOD’S GOT YOU. You are a beloved son or daughter of our Father in Heaven. He will never abandon you. When your world feels like it’s spinning out of control, lean into God’s love and grace. Your journey may not be easy, but it will be worth it. Beauty can be born from brokenness.

Brett and I believe in you. We want you to know that Jesus loves and adores you—deeply and personally. Even in your darkest moments, He is with you.

Please do me a favor: the moment you begin to SPEAK DOG and experience transformation in your home, give all the glory to God. This book is a true miracle. Prison tried to destroy our family, but God turned our suffering and pain into a message of healing and redemption.

“Thank you, Jesus. I am forever grateful for Your unconditional love and guidance. Thank You for never abandoning my family in our darkest hour.
Bless this reader and fill them with Your Holy Spirit, Lord. Whatever they are going through right now, give them the strength and courage to overcome it. Birth something beautiful from their pain that will inspire others. Remind them of who they truly are—a child of God, called to greatness.
We love You, Lord. AMEN.”

With love and gratitude,
Noél Bartlett
Founder of Proud Prison Wives

---

Speak Dog Dedication

It’s 3:30 a.m., and freezing cold inside my dark federal prison cell. My fingertips are slowly going numb as I put my pencil to paper. The cold no longer bothers me, because each morning I have the privilege of working on my first manuscript, SPEAK DOG. For the next four hours, I will have uninterrupted time to write and think before the rest of my fellow inmates wake up and start another day on the compound. 3 a.m. to 7 a.m. is now my favorite time of day, and I cherish every second of it.

This morning, I wanted to write a special dedication to my wife, Noél, and memorialize my deep love and thankfulness for her.

To My Wonderful Warrior Wife

Noél, you are my hero, and I admire you more than words can express. You are the bravest, strongest, fiercest, and most loving human being I have ever met. I am honored to be your husband.

Every day I am in prison, you fight to keep our family safe and secure. Thank you, my love, for protecting our children and showering them with love while barbed wire fences separate our family. Someday soon, my beautiful bride, I will be back home and our family will be reunited. I will hold you in my arms again and never let go.

Noél, I promise to make you proud every single day I am incarcerated. I will prove worthy of the unconditional love and support you have shown me throughout this long prison journey. You are my everything, and I draw daily strength from you. You will always be my forever person.

Even though I am currently confined by federal prison, I still feel like the luckiest man in the world—because I have you as my wife.

Noél, I am incredibly proud of you and all you have accomplished through Proud Prison Wives. You have turned our family’s hardship into a testimony of God’s goodness. Many lives will be transformed because of your courage, obedience, and relentless heart.

I love you with all my heart, Noél.
P.S. You are still the hottest and sexiest person I have ever seen. Gosh, I am such a lucky man!!!

Love always,
Brett (The Prison Puppy Trainer)

---

My Inspiration for Writing SPEAK DOG From Federal Prison

On October 6, 2021, my precious three-year-old daughter, Lula, was viciously attacked by a family member’s dog.

The searing scream Lula made when that dog bit the left side of her face is forever burned into my memory. Even writing about this moment makes me feel physically sick to my stomach as I sit inside my dark prison cell.

I can still see the streams of blood pouring down my little princess’s face as I frantically carried her trembling, fragile body up the stairs. My wife, Noél, took one look at Lula and immediately called 911. Lula’s blood had covered the bathroom floor by the time the firefighters, paramedics, and ambulance arrived. They rushed to her side, their footsteps echoing with urgency, as the color drained from their own faces as they looked at her. Her sweet face covered in blood, not knowing even at that point where it was all coming from. The air was thick with fear, and the sound of muffled voices filled the small bathroom as they debated in urgent whispers whether she needed to be airlifted or if the ambulance could get her to the hospital in time.

They ultimately chose the ambulance, which meant I could stay by my brave little girl’s side as we raced toward the hospital. I climbed in beside her, clutching her hand as the doors slammed shut and the siren came to life. The world outside blurred into streaks of red and white while inside, time seemed to slow. Lula’s hand was so small in mine, but her grip never wavered. I could feel her pulse against my palm, a reminder that she was still fighting, still here. She didn’t cry or panic—she just looked at me with those big, steady brown eyes that somehow said, “We’ve got this, Daddy.” I realized then that my little girl carried a strength far beyond her years. My daughter is, without question, one of the bravest, strongest, and most loving human beings you will ever meet.

I, on the other hand, was falling apart inside. On the outside, I kept whispering to Lula that everything was going to be okay, forcing calm into my voice that I didn’t feel for one second. Inside, I was unraveling—completely consumed by fear and darkness. I watched helplessly as her face continued to swell, each second revealing more and more damage, more uncertainty. Her left eye was almost completely swollen shut. Dark red blood pooling beneath her eyelid before slowly dripping down her soft, pale cheek—something no parent should ever have to witness. Panic clawed its way through my entire body. I didn’t know if she would ever see out of that eye again. Every worst-case scenario flashed through my mind like flashes of lightning. I gripped her hand tighter and prayed under my breath as the ambulance screeched to a stop and the hospital doors burst open.

Once inside, everything moved fast and slow all at once. Bright lights, sharp voices, the smell of antiseptic—it all blurred together as doctors swarmed around my little girl—one after another, they examined her face, their expressions tightening with every glance. Lula would need emergency surgery, specifically extensive plastic surgery on her face, and the primary concern was the unknown extent of the damage to her left eye. Each time a surgeon looked at me, I saw a mix of worry and pity that sent pain pulsing through my entire body. My chest ached with helplessness. As a parent, there’s no agony deeper than watching your child suffer and realizing there’s nothing you can do to make it stop—no way to trade places, no way to protect them from the pain. It is one of the most gut-wrenching feelings imaginable.

The night before her surgery, Lula sat propped up in her hospital bed, smiling and laughing as if nothing had happened. She sipped her favorite Chick-fil-A chicken noodle soup—her comfort food, the one thing that could always make her happy. That girl has always loved her chicken noodle soup. Watching her spoon it up between giggles while hooked to IV lines broke me in ways I can’t explain. Her face was so swollen I could hardly recognize her—her soft cheeks puffed and bruised, dried blood covered her entire tiny face. She couldn’t see out of her left eye at all by this point, yet somehow she still found a way to smile through it. A warrior strength inside my beautiful girl that has been a true inspiration to many. Later that night, the doctors would sedate her to assess the full extent of the damage, but in that moment, she was pure light in a room filled with fear and unknown.

That night—just hours before her surgery—I could feel something in me changing. My heart, once so soft toward animals, was beginning to harden. The fear and pain had twisted into anger, and that rage was quietly taking root inside me. I hated what had happened. I hated the helplessness. And in that fragile, terrified moment, I found myself resenting every dog—every wagging tail, every bark, every reminder of what had nearly stolen my child from me. The hatred felt powerful, almost protective, like if I held onto it tightly enough, I could somehow keep my family safe. I remember whispering to myself, "Never again. No dog will ever hurt us again.”

After two major surgeries and countless doctor appointments, our sweet Lula—by the grace of God—made a complete recovery. What once felt impossible became our living miracle. The swelling faded, the scars have softened, and her laughter returned, brighter than ever. Thanks to her incredible team of plastic surgeons and ophthalmologists, she’s just as beautiful as ever—inside and out. Every time I look at her, I see the goodness of God written across her face. Our girl is living proof that miracles still happen and that faith can carry you through even the darkest nights.

I had no idea that years later—inside the cold walls of a federal prison cell—God would send a four-legged angel to meet me in the very place where my heart had hardened. His name was Conrad. He wasn’t just a dog; he was a divine interruption—God’s unexpected messenger wrapped in fur and grace. Through Conrad, I began to see what true healing looked like. Every fear, every ounce of bitterness I had buried after Lula’s accident began to loosen its grip. This gentle, brown-eyed pup somehow knew how to reach the places in me that no human could touch. God used Mr. Conrad to dig up the roots of pain, hatred, and fear that had been growing inside me for years—and in their place, He planted love, forgiveness, and peace.

“Lord, thank You for sending me to a federal prison that just so happens to have a dog program. Only You could turn a place meant for punishment into a place of purpose.

Thank you for placing Conrad in my life at the exact moment I needed him most.

Thank You for sending me a big, fluffy, drooling guardian angel to lift me up when I was at my lowest—to remind me that even behind barbed wire, Your grace still finds a way in.”

Mr. Conrad—my big, brown-eyed dog—thank you for healing my heart.

What are the chances that I would be sent to one of the very few federal prisons in America that teaches inmates how to train service dogs? Only God could orchestrate something like that.

Conrad, my faithful friend, it has been the greatest honor of my life to be your Prison Puppy Trainer. You taught me how to listen again—how to love without fear, and how to believe in redemption even when the world says you’re too far gone.

Now you’re with your forever family, and I already know they need your healing superpower just as much as I did. Show them what real love looks like, buddy. Rip out their pain, calm their storms, and remind them—like you reminded me—that unconditional love changes everything.

I don’t have the words to fully express my gratitude to you, Mr. Conrad. You brought a kind of healing into my life that I didn’t even know was possible. You will forever be the greatest friend I have ever had in prison.

People here still talk about the bond we shared. It wasn’t just noticeable—it was undeniable. The trainers, the staff, and even the officers would stop and watch the way we moved together. My fellow handlers joked that I had somehow learned to “SPEAK DOG.”
Honestly—they’re not wrong.

What started as a simple training program became a language of grace and understanding—a way for two souls to hear each other fully.

 

Conrad taught me that dogs do speak. They’re talking to us all the time—we humans just don’t always know how to listen.

Mr. Conrad and I spoke two entirely different languages: he spoke Dog, and I spoke Human.

But little by little, he taught me how to become a better listener. I began to quiet my assumptions, slow down, and meet him where he was. That’s when everything changed.

Once we truly connected—once I started speaking his language—his ability to learn skyrocketed. The dog that everyone doubted became the top of his class.

Learning to SPEAK DOG has been one of the greatest blessings of my life.

Now, it’s my mission to teach every dog owner how to SPEAK DOG—to help others experience the same breakthrough I had with Conrad. Every person deserves to feel that unshakable bond, that moment when trust replaces frustration and love becomes the language.

That’s why, from inside this prison cell, I’m writing my first manuscript—SPEAK DOG. Every single page is being handwritten between lockdowns, counts, and chaos because I believe the world desperately needs it.

Mr. Conrad, this book is my way of saying thank you. It’s my tribute to the healing you brought into my life and the reminder that even behind bars, freedom can be found in love, purpose, and a dog’s eyes.

Conrad, I love you.
Thank you for being you.

Sincerely,
Brett (The Prison Puppy Trainer)

---

The Goal

YES!!!
Y.E.S.

This simple three-letter word is about to transform how you train and communicate with your dog.

Right now, I need you to do something for me.

Slowly walk up to your doggo, look straight into their adorable eyes, and clearly say the word: YES!!!!

…Ummmm…

Why are you still reading this? I only have ten days to teach you how to SPEAK DOG fluently. The clock is ticking. LET'S GO!!!

Please put this incredible, life-changing book down, find your dog, stare directly into their eyes, and proudly say the word, YES!!!

I’ll wait.

Remember—this book is all about taking action and actually learning to SPEAK DOG, not just read about it.

I am determined to help you build the exact kind of connection I had with Mr. Conrad. A bond so deep it can NEVER be broken.

So… what happened after you confidently said “YES” to your furry best friend?
What was your dog's reaction?

Nothing??? Oh shoot, that’s weird. 

Please try it one more time, but this time, say YES a little louder. Make sure you are standing tall so your dog knows you’re the alpha of the pack.

I’ll wait again.

Did it work better this time?
Let me guess… NOPE.

Do you know why your dog most likely looked confused when you spoke the word YES into the room?
Because you speak Human, and your dog speaks well… Dog.

Here’s the Truth

We humans rely on a complex vocabulary to communicate all our thoughts, needs, and emotions. Spoken words are our main form of communication with each other and how we navigate the world.

Your dog, however, does not understand a single human word coming out of your mouth.

Now you might be thinking:

“Brett, that’s not true! When I say the word walk, my dog loses their mind with excitement! They totally understand!”

You’re not wrong, BUT you’re also not right.

You might think your dog responds to the word “walk,” but in your dog’s mind, that single word is only one small note in a whole symphony of signals. Long before the word even leaves your lips, they’ve already noticed the subtle shift in your tone—the rise of excitement in your voice, the sound of your footsteps moving toward the door, the soft jingle of keys, or the familiar squeak of the leash being unclipped from its hook. They’ve clocked the time of day, felt the change in your energy, and maybe even caught the scent of the outdoors drifting through the air.

To your doggo, all of these tiny details form a vivid story and mean: It’s time for a walk.

Dogs are INCREDIBLY perceptive. They navigate the world with their nose first, ears second, and eyes third. Human words hold NO MEANING to them, most of the time.

The next time you say the word walk, please watch your dog’s eyes. Notice how they scan every movement you make. They’re not listening to your words—they’re decoding your signals. They are constantly trying to understand what you are attempting to communicate.

How Your Dog Feels

Your dog loves you more than anything in this world—but most of the time, they have no idea what you’re trying to say or how to communicate with you. They are unable to hear and understand your language.

Can you imagine how frustrating and defeating that must be?

All day long, your dog is thinking:

“Is this what you want?”
“Is this it?”
“What about this?”

That would be exhausting for anyone—human or dog!

But here’s the good news…

You’re about to make all of your dog’s wildest dreams come true.

Your dog is finally going to hear you, in their own language, for the very first time.

It’s the moment understanding replaces frustration, and connection replaces chaos.

And it all begins with one small, powerful three-letter word:

Y.E.S.

“Is this what you want?” → YES.
“Is this it?” → YES.
“What about this?” → YES.

Speaking Dog Is Simple… But Not Easy

The power of YES lies in your ability to say it with consistency and meaning—in a way your dog understands.

Are you ready to transform the way you communicate and connect with your dog?

Yes???

GREAT!!!!

Your journey starts now.

Give me ten days, and I’ll show you how one simple word can change your life—and your dog’s life—forever.

Our goal is simple:
Learn how to SPEAK DOG by saying “YES.”

Watch what happens when your dog hears “YES” for the first time in their language.

I’m truly blessed and honored to guide you through this journey.
Your trust means more to me than you’ll ever know, and I promise to make every word worth it.

In the next section, I’m going to share a story with you about my dear friend, Mr. Conrad, called:
“How I Learned the Power of YES the Hard Way.”

Enjoy!

---

How I Learned the Power of YES the Hard Way

Around 6 a.m. every morning, a harsh voice explodes through the prison speaker system, shattering the silence:
“Ten-minute move on the compound.”

Those five words bounce off the concrete walls and metal bars like a war cry, signaling the start of another tightly controlled day. I know what it means—I have EXACTLY ten minutes to get Mr. Conrad outside to the puppy yard for his morning “business.”

Taking care of a puppy inside a federal prison is one of the most surreal experiences imaginable. Every step you take is under watchful eyes—guards in towers, officers behind glass, and other inmates peering from their cells. There’s no privacy here. Every movement is a performance under fluorescent light and razor wire.

When the loudspeaker crackles back into silence, the air feels heavy again. My breath turns to mist in the pitch-black early morning cold of my cell. The only sounds are the faint hum of the vents and Conrad’s slow, rhythmic breathing beside me.

With deliberate care, I reach for his collar. My fingers brush against his thick black fur, and he stirs, tail thumping softly against the concrete floor. Every motion must be quiet—measured. With slow, steady hands, I fasten his collar—careful not to make a sound, careful not to wake my cellmate who’s sleeping just inches away.

Then, slowly but surely, Mr. Conrad and I begin our long, echoing walk down the narrow corridor toward the prison puppy yard. His nails click softly against the concrete floor with every step, the sound mingling with the distant clang of metal doors and the faint buzz of fluorescent lights overhead. The cold air nips at my face as we pass through one security gate after another—each one slamming shut behind us like the punctuation marks of prison life.

By the time we reach the yard, Conrad’s tail is wagging, and the faintest hint of dawn peeks over the razor wire. He gets straight to business—thank God. My boy never wastes time. In this place, ten minutes means everything. If that loudspeaker blares “Move’s over!” before we’re back inside, I could be written up, locked out, or worse—stuck outside my housing unit for hours. In prison, a missed move isn’t just inconvenient; it’s chaos waiting to unfold.

So, every morning, as Conrad finishes quickly and I exhale in relief, I whisper a quiet “thank you” under my breath. He has no idea how many disciplinary write-ups, headaches, and heart-pounding sprints he’s saved me—just by being a fast pooper.

After our trip to the potty yard, Mr. Conrad and I head to the dog training room for our early morning session. This special room sits at the very end of a long, dimly lit hallway in my housing unit. In the early hours, the entire building is so silent that every one of our footsteps echoes off the concrete floors.

I gently push open the door and let Mr. Conrad enter first. He walks in confidently, then sits patiently in front of me, waiting for his collar to be unclipped. His tail gives a soft thump, and his little smile always warms my heart. In that quiet room, before the noise of prison life begins, it’s just the two of us—ready to train, ready to connect.

But on this particular brisk morning, I was in for a harsh reality check. Before I could even process what was happening, Mr. Conrad exploded through the training room door—full Mach speed—like a black blur of fur and chaos. The sudden burst of motion shattered the morning's stillness. His paws clattered against the polished concrete, echoing down the long corridor like a runaway freight train barreling through a tunnel. For a split second, I froze, my breath catching in my chest as my heart plummeted straight into my stomach. 

I made a critical rookie mistake.
I FORGOT TO SHUT THE DOOR.

The moment I unclipped his collar—BOOM—he was gone. No collar. No leash. No trainer in sight. And worse, he was now sprinting straight toward the correctional officers’ station like it was his personal red carpet runway. I could feel panic flooding my entire body. My brain was screaming, “This is it. I'm done. I'm about to lose my dog, my program, and possibly my sanity—all before breakfast!”

I sprinted after my big brown-eyed dog, my heart beating out of my chest and sweat dripping off every part of my body. Meanwhile, Conrad thought we were playing the greatest game ever invented. Every frantic step I took toward him registered in his mind as a resounding “YES!” He genuinely believed he was crushing our morning training session. At that moment, it became painfully obvious—I had not yet learned how to SPEAK DOG.

After sprinting across the entire housing unit and waking up half the prison population, Conrad finally slowed down. Together, we did the long walk of shame back to my cell—right past the correctional officers, who stared us down the entire way.

When we got back, I collapsed flat on the cold concrete floor, staring up into the darkness above me. I thought to myself, “What the heck am I even doing? I don’t know how to train a dog. I’m not even sure if I like dogs.”

My existential crisis was interrupted quickly by a slobbery tongue licking the sweat off my face.
Don’t worry—it was just Conrad, not my cellmate. 

That one mistake I made changed everything.

The Breakthrough

Later that day, I made a promise to myself—and to Conrad—that we were going to figure this out together. I could feel how badly he wanted to learn, how eager he was to please —the tilt of his head, the focus in his eyes—but my words were trapped in a language he couldn’t understand. I kept speaking Human, while he spoke Dog, and somewhere between us, the message was getting lost.

Day after day, Conrad and I trained for hours in the “dog training room,” doing our best to bridge the communication gap between us. Our most significant focus was RECALL—getting him to come when I called his name. Considering his recent jailbreak sprint through the prison compound, let’s just say this lesson was high on our list for very obvious reasons.

At first, it was rough—painfully rough. Conrad looked up at me, trying so hard to understand, but he just couldn’t. We were still speaking two entirely different languages, and neither of us had the translator yet.

Then, in one beautiful moment, it clicked. 

I had FINALLY unlocked the “power of YES.” 

Conrad looked at me with his big brown eyes and asked, “Is this it?”

And for the first time, I was able to answer him IN HIS language:  “YES!”

MY jaw dropped to the floor as Conrad successfully responded to every single one of my RECALL REQUESTS. His entire face lit up with joy. He sprinted toward me full speed—and in that moment, we both felt it.
We finally understood each other.

From that day forward, whenever I called his name—even from a hundred yards away—Conrad would come sprinting back with a giant smile on his face, waiting for his favorite new word.

The Power of YES

Every time he asked, “Is this what you want?”
I now had the ability and pleasure to clearly respond, “YES! My friend.” 

That single word—spoken in the right way—bridged the gap between human and dog.

This book is going to teach you how to use the word YES the same way—so your dog can finally hear you.

The look on your dog’s face the first time they understand you will be priceless. Soak in that moment. It will change you both forever.

I am so dang excited for you and your furry friend.

Now that you understand the true power of YES, it’s time to learn The Rules of the Game.

See you on the next page.

---

Day 1: The Rules of the Game

“Dogs do speak, but only to those who know how to listen.” — Orhan Pamuk

I’m proud of you — I really mean that.

The fact that you’re reading this book says a lot about who you are. You love your dog so much that you’re willing to put in the work over the next 10 days. I respect and admire your willingness to walk the walk. 

Thank you for trusting me to guide you on this 10-day journey. Learning how to SPEAK DOG is one of the greatest gifts God has given me, and I feel called to share it with dog owners worldwide. I want to make my big brown-eyed dog, Mr. Conrad, proud.

Today is the day YOU begin your journey toward SPEAKING DOG.

Constant communication with your dog will unlock their true potential and help them finally “hear” you.

Ten days — that’s all it takes to transform two beautiful souls and build a bond that can never be broken.

I’m blessed to walk this path alongside you.

Throughout this book, I’ll make one promise to you:
I will never ask you to do anything I didn’t personally do while training Mr. Conrad inside a federal prison. I promise to walk the walk with you.

If you ever feel frustrated, just know I felt the same way.
If you ever feel like giving up, just know I almost did too.
If ever you feel confused during a training session, just know I still do!

Remember — learning to SPEAK DOG is simple, but it’s not easy. 

Can you make me one promise over the next 10 days?

Promise me that you will never give up on learning to SPEAK DOG.

Your dog loves you more than you could ever imagine and has an unshakable desire to truly hear you. My friend, you’re about to change your dog’s life forever. I’m actually tearing up as I write this because I know firsthand what this breakthrough in communication will mean for both of you. It’s not just training—it’s transformation.

Thank you again for trusting me to guide you on this journey. It means the world to me.

Let’s begin our epic adventure right now.

Day 1 of learning how to SPEAK DOG starts today!

Today, I’ll teach you The Rules of the Game.
Let’s do this!

A Scary Scenario

Before I explain the rules, I want you to picture a potentially terrifying moment.

Imagine you’re walking your dog during rush-hour traffic. The sun is low, headlights blur together, and the air hums with the roar of engines. You reach a crosswalk and firmly press the button to cross safely—click. Car after car zooms past. Each one is so close you can feel the wind from each car brushing across your body as it passes by.

Then, in an instant, you feel it—snap. You realize your dog’s leash has snapped. 

You’re frozen at the edge of the crosswalk, powerless to stop your dog from darting into oncoming traffic. The world around you blurs—honking horns, flashing headlights, time slows. You can see your dog’s fur ripple in the wind as they glance toward the open street—ears perked, tail twitching, ready to bolt. Your heart is pounding so loudly it seems to drown out everything else around you.

What would you do to keep them safe?

Would you reach for them, knowing the sudden movement might make them run?

Would you shout, “Don’t run into the street!” praying they somehow understand?

Be honest with yourself. In that split second, what could you possibly do to protect your furry best friend?

I know exactly what I’d do if Mr. Conrad and I were in that situation, standing there, broken leash in hand, cars zooming by.

Right away, I’d look down — and he’d look back up at me with those big brown eyes.
The moment he glanced at me, I’d tell him “YES” — in dog language.

Because I responded immediately to his glance, Mr. Conrad would know,
“Oh, you want me to stay right here beside you. I get it.”

That glance was his way of asking,
“Is this it? Is this what you want me to do?”

My response to his nonverbal question was precise, confident, and punctual:
“YES, Mr. Conrad. Stay right here beside me. I love you, buddy. I want you safe.”

That’s the power of consistent communication in dog language.

Most owners don’t understand the power of “YES” and miss countless opportunities to connect with their dogs. I know I did when I first started learning to SPEAK DOG.

Today, I want to teach you The Rules of the Game—the secret to never missing another chance to say “YES” in your dog’s language.
Because when those terrifying moments come—and they will—you’ll know exactly what to do, how to respond, and how to keep your dog safe, no matter what situation you find yourself in.

The Three Simple Rules

Rule #1: Your Dog Is Constantly Asking You Questions

Your dog is always asking:
“Is this it?”
“Is this what you want me to do?”

All throughout the day, your dog is signaling these questions—but most of the time, we miss them.

Please understand something important: your dog is obsessed with you. Every movement, smell, and sound you make means something to them. You might be saying “YES” to your dog without even realizing it.

Most of your dog’s “naughty” behaviors are caused by accidental “YES” moments. Don’t feel bad — we all learn this lesson the hard way. Dogs are incredible at showing us where we may be miscommunicating.

Next time your dog jumps up on someone, just know you may have accidentally said “YES” when they asked, “Is this it?”
It sounds crazy, but it’s 100% true — we are the root cause of most of our dogs’ bad behaviors.

Rule #2: Dogs Learn Through the Power of YES

For the next 10 days, you can only communicate “YES” to your dog.

This rule is soooo hard for us humans to grasp. Imagine your dog as an alien species that only understands one single word — “YES.”

That means every interaction, correction, and training moment needs to focus on the positive, not the negative.

Rule #3: No Saying “NO”

You are NOT allowed to say “NO” to your dog for the next 10 days.
Actually, you can’t say any negative words for the next 10 days. This includes:

 “Stop it,” “Be Quiet,” and  “No!”

I know — that sounds impossible. Our human instinct is to correct negatively. But remember Rule #2: your dog can only learn from “YES.” 

So what’s the point in saying “NO”?

Please do your very best to limit the number of negative words you use toward your dog in a day. It might be tough at first, but it’s life-changing once you realize how much clearer your communication becomes.

Let’s Review the Rules

Rule #1: Your dog is obsessed with you and constantly asking in their own dog language,
“Is this it?” “Is this what you want me to do?”

Rule #2: You can only communicate “YES.”

Rule #3: No saying “NO.”

These rules may sound simple — even silly — but they’re rooted in real behavioral science and data. The fancy words for these three rules that professional animal trainers use are operant conditioning, positive reinforcement, and behavioral therapy.

But here in the Speak Dog world, we don’t need all those fancy terms. 

If someone asks, “Hey, how did you get so good at training your dog?”
Just smile and simply say,
“Oh, I learned how to SPEAK DOG from an inmate in federal prison.”

I can only imagine their faces when you say that! Hahaha, Ok, joking aside, I have something very important to tell you…

Congratulations! You did it!

You’ve officially completed Day 1 of our epic SPEAK DOG journey! Great Job!

Now you know The 3 Simple Rules of the Game.

You might be wondering,
“Brett, this all sounds great, but how in the world do I say YES in dog language?”

That’s a great question — but you’ll have to wait until Day 2 to find out.

For now, I want to share a story with you — one that proves I’ll never ask you to do anything I didn’t try myself.

Today’s Prison Puppy Trainer story is called:

“Please Don’t Do That, Mr. Conrad, Because I’m Going to Be Sent to the Hole.” (long title I know haha) 

Enjoy!

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Please Don’t Do That, Mr. Conrad, Because I’ll Be Sent to “The Hole.”

Did you know there’s a prison inside the prison?

It’s called “The Hole.”

This is the special place in prison where inmates are sent when they “misbehave.”

The hallway where I live sits directly across from The Hole. That means I get a front-row seat to watch which of my “neighbors” is being sent there next. All I have to do is lean out of my cell, and there it is—the sight of another man in handcuffs, head down, being escorted by correctional officers toward that cold, windowless corridor. The air feels heavier in those moments, filled with the sound of clanging keys and echoing footsteps. It’s a constant reminder of where I am and where I never want to go.

Prisoners get sent to The Hole for all kinds of reasons—drugs, gambling, violence. Every day, men on this compound disappear behind that steel door, swallowed by darkness and silence.

But there’s one rule everyone here knows better than to break.

Cross that line, even by accident, and you’re done.

One move—just one—and you’ll find yourself in The Hole before you can even blink.

If any inmate ever touches a correctional officer in any way, they’re immediately sent to The Hole—no questions asked.

Because of that, I make sure to always keep a safe distance from every officer in my housing unit. The unspoken rule here is simple: don’t get too close. When I see an officer walking down the hallway, I instinctively press my back against the cold concrete wall—a silent way of politely saying, I see you. I mean no harm.
I have no interest in trouble. My only goal is to finish this sentence without ever setting foot in The Hole.

I’ve heard enough horror stories about guys who “accidentally” brushed against a correctional officer. Let’s just say—it never ends well. The story always ends the same way: handcuffs, a door slamming shut, and silence.

Unfortunately, my big, brown-eyed best friend, Mr. Conrad, never took the time to read the FMC Rochester prison policy handbook.

To him, every correctional officer was just another new friend waiting to be greeted.
The moment he saw an officer walking down the hallway, Conrad would launch himself into the air like a furry missile—tail wagging, tongue out, pure joy radiating from every inch of his body—as he jumped straight toward whoever happened to have a badge.
Every single time this happened, I would instantly feel a lightning bolt of panic and fear shoot through my entire body. My heart pounding, sweat dripping, as I’d brace for the inevitable reprimand—or worse.

My overly enthusiastic furry friend did not amuse the officers. Their glares said it all—sharp, cold, and heavy enough to stop me in my tracks.
Meanwhile, I stood frozen, every muscle in my body locked tight, silently counting the seconds to see if this was the moment I’d be punished and marched straight to The Hole for my dog’s misunderstanding. My heart pounded so hard it felt like the entire hallway could hear it echoing in my chest. I stood there, praying they’d see what I saw—a harmless, big-hearted dog just trying to say hello.

At this stage in my prison puppy trainer journey, I had clearly not yet learned how to SPEAK DOG.

I kept making the same rookie mistakes over and over.

Whenever Conrad jumped on an officer, I’d blurt out things like “STOP!” “GET DOWN!” or “NO, NO, NO!”

None of it worked. Every word I spoke hung in the air like static. Those were human words. He couldn’t hear what I was saying because I was speaking in my language — not his.

In Conrad’s mind, my loud reactions translated to:
“Yes, Conrad! I love that you’re jumping on those nice gentlemen in uniform!”

I was terrified — and exhausted. My stomach hurt from the stress. Have you ever been so scared that your body physically aches? It’s not fun!!!

Conrad and I needed to get on the same page, and fast.

We needed to communicate.

That meant going back to the basics. I had to start over, follow The Rules of the Game, and finally learn how to SPEAK DOG if I ever wanted to fix the problems in front of me.

Rule #1 – Recognize the Question

Conrad was always asking me the same thing:
“Is this what you want?”
“Is this it?”

The problem was that I never realized when he was asking.

Looking back, I can see that he was asking these questions way before we even got near a correctional officer.

Every single step we took down the hallway, Conrad would glance up at me — waiting for direction. Each glance was his way of saying, “Is this what you want me to do?”

And I ignored him.

Without my “YES,” Conrad had no idea what I wanted from him.

Identifying WHEN my dog was asking the questions was the first step to hearing his language.

Rule #2 – Say YES (and Mean It)

Each time Conrad looked up at me, I needed to tell him “YES” in dog language. The timing had to be perfect. The timing of when to say YES is critical to SPEAK DOG.

So, we slowed everything down.

Here’s what our walks looked like after I started applying the rules:

• I’d take one small step forward.

• Conrad would take one small step forward.

• I’d look down at him.

• He’d look up at me.

• I’d tell him “YES” in DOG language.

• He’d smile.
  
  

Then again:

• I’d take one little step.

• Conrad would take one little step.

• We’d lock eyes.

• I’d immediately say “YES” in HIS language.

• His tail would wag.
  
  

And again:

• One more tiny step.

• One more glance straight into each other's eyes.

• BOOM! One more quick “YES” in his language.

• One happy dog whose entire body would wiggle with pure excitement.
  
  

My best prison friend was finally hearing me.

The Big Test

Then came the real challenge.

The guards were heading our way, their keys clanging like alarm bells. My heart started racing, my body temperature rising.

I took a deep breath and reminded myself of Rule #3. Shoot, what’s rule #3 again?

Rule #3 – No Saying “NO”

Okay, Mr. Conrad… we got this.

We took one small step forward and looked at each other (Rule #1).
I gave him a confident, quick “YES” in dog language. (Rule #2).

The guards approached, loud and close. I stayed quiet — no yelling, no “NOs” — just waiting for Conrad to look back at me (Rule #3).

Mr. Conrad glanced at the guards… then looked back up at me before any jumping had occurred.

Jackpot!

I immediately told him, “Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!”

In that moment, he understood and knew exactly what was being asked of him. 

We were SPEAKING DOG to each other using just three simple rules.

Three Rule Reminder

Rule #1: Your dog is constantly asking,
“Is this it? Is this what you want?”

Rule #2: You can only say “YES” in dog language.

Rule #3: No saying “NO.”

Understanding these three simple rules will be the goal to help you learn to SPEAK DOG!

 

I love you, Mr. Conrad.

Thank you for hearing me and teaching me to SPEAK DOG so I can share it with the world. I’m forever grateful for you, my friend.

Okay, time to rest up. Our epic journey continues tomorrow.

One day at a time, we’ll learn to SPEAK DOG together. Only nine more days to go before you’re fluent.

You’ll need your energy, because Day 2 is all about How to Say YES in Dog Language.

Sincerely,
Brett (The Prison Puppy Trainer)

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End of Day 1 Reflective Moment:

As you reflect on today’s lesson, ask yourself:

Have I been truly listening to the ones who matter most in my life?

Listening is where healing and understanding begin.

How can I become a better listener to those around me?

How can I slow down long enough to truly hear—my dog, my loved ones, and even God’s quiet voice in my heart?

 

TO BE CONTINUED.....

 

Ok, I’M KINDA NERVOUS!!! 😂

Soooooooo... what did you think of the “SPEAK DOG” preview?

Please, please send me a quick text  (714) 410-2191 and let me know your honest feedback — I truly value it. 💛

I’m seriously so excited to share this SPEAK DOG book with the world!!!

I can’t even describe how grateful I am for this new season that’s unfolding — for my husband, our family, and for every one of you who has supported us through it all.

We are truly beyond blessed and SO thankful for this community. 

(The link to check out SPEAK DOG is BELOW!!)

Love all of you so much,
Noél