The lives are being changed on both ends of the leash
In Wisconsin, beagles bred for laboratory research are encountering grass and kindness for the first time, while the veterans and first responders who receive them are rediscovering purpose and safety. Paws of War, an organization that trains rescued animals to serve those wounded by combat and crisis, has woven two separate stories of confinement and trauma into a single path toward recovery. The program reminds us that healing is rarely a solitary act — it tends to move between beings, passing from one trembling soul to another until both find steadier ground.
- Hundreds of beagles from a Wisconsin breeding facility arrived in new homes having never walked on grass, climbed stairs, or felt a gentle human hand — their entire existence shaped by cages and confinement.
- The behavioral trauma runs deep: many dogs shake uncontrollably near people, unable to distinguish safety from danger, requiring staff to carry them outside and teach them the most basic acts of being a dog.
- Paws of War stepped into the rescue, taking ten beagles and channeling the urgency of their rehabilitation into a structured program that matches the animals with veterans and first responders carrying their own invisible wounds.
- The organization surrounds adopters with supplies, group training, and community — recognizing that the humans on the other end of the leash are not simply caretakers but fellow survivors in need of connection and purpose.
- Both animals and people are now moving, however haltingly, toward transformation — each healing the other in a program that refuses to treat animal rescue and veteran mental health as separate concerns.
A group of beagles rescued from Ridglan Farms, a Wisconsin facility that bred animals for laboratory research, are encountering the ordinary textures of life — grass, toys, stairs, affection — for the very first time. After years in cages designed to produce research subjects rather than companions, many of these animals arrive in new homes trembling and disoriented, unsure of safety, unsure even of their own nature.
Paws of War, which trains shelter dogs to support military veterans and first responders recovering from psychological trauma, took ten of the rescued beagles into its program following a state investigation into alleged animal welfare violations at the facility. Co-founder Robert Misseri described the animals' profound disorientation plainly: "They right now don't even know they're dogs."
The rehabilitation is painstaking. Director of Adoptions Jodie Cohen and her team work to prepare what she calls "traumatized little souls" for adoption — teaching them to walk on leashes, go outside, and trust human presence. Some must be carried on their first steps outdoors. The process is slow, deliberate, and built on patience.
What sets Paws of War apart is its understanding that healing moves in both directions. The rescued beagles are paired with veterans and first responders who are themselves navigating trauma, and adopters receive supplies, ongoing training, and a community of fellow families. The structure holds space for both the animal and the human to mend together.
Misseri captures the program's quiet power in a single observation: "The lives are being changed on both ends of the leash." As these beagles learn what it means to be dogs, and the people who adopt them learn to live beyond their wounds, both are finding that recovery is possible — and that it often arrives on four legs.
A group of beagles rescued from Ridglan Farms, a Wisconsin breeding facility that supplied animals for laboratory research, are learning what it means to be dogs for the first time in their lives. After years confined to cages in a facility designed to produce research subjects, not pets, hundreds of these animals are now encountering grass, stairs, toys, and human affection. Many arrive at their new homes trembling, unsure whether they will be hurt, uncertain even of their own nature as living beings rather than products.
Paws of War, an organization that trains shelter dogs to work with military veterans and first responders struggling with the psychological wounds of combat, took ten of the rescued beagles into its program. The rescue itself came after state investigators uncovered alleged violations of animal welfare laws at Ridglan Farms, prompting a coordinated effort that Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. described as a significant victory for animal protection. For Paws of War co-founder Robert Misseri, the opportunity to participate in the rescue felt deeply meaningful. "They right now don't even know they're dogs," he said, describing the profound disorientation these animals experience when removed from the only environment they have ever known.
The transition from facility to home is neither quick nor simple. The dogs have never walked on leashes, never learned to eliminate outside, never played with toys or climbed stairs. Some shake uncontrollably in the presence of humans. Jodie Cohen, the organization's Director of Adoptions, works with a team to prepare what she calls "traumatized little souls" for their new lives. The process involves careful matching between dogs and adopters, teaching fundamental skills, and building the confidence that years of confinement have stripped away. "We have to carry them out," Cohen explained of the initial walks. "We have to teach them how to go potty. We teach them to keep their runs clean and basically get them ready for adoption."
What distinguishes Paws of War's approach is its recognition that healing flows in both directions. The organization pairs these rescued beagles with veterans and first responders who are themselves recovering from trauma. The dogs receive training in basic obedience and behavioral skills; the adopters receive hundreds of dollars in supplies, ongoing group training sessions, and the chance to build relationships with other families in the program. The structure acknowledges that both the animals and the people who take them home carry wounds that require time, patience, and the presence of another living being to mend.
Misseri describes the transformation he witnesses as the dogs begin to understand safety and the humans begin to understand purpose again. "The lives are being changed on both ends of the leash," he said. The program demonstrates a model in which animal rescue and veteran mental health support are not separate initiatives but interconnected paths to recovery. As these beagles learn to be dogs and the veterans and first responders who adopt them learn to live beyond their trauma, both are discovering that healing is possible, and that it often arrives on four legs.
Notable Quotes
They right now don't even know they're dogs. They come in from a very difficult environment but as we transition them to families, they are coming around.— Robert Misseri, co-founder of Paws of War
We have to carry them out. We have to teach them how to go potty. We teach them to keep their runs clean and basically get them ready for adoption.— Jodie Cohen, Director of Adoptions at Paws of War
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
What does it actually mean that these dogs don't know they're dogs?
They've never experienced the basic sensations of being alive as a dog. No grass under their paws, no stairs to climb, no toys to chase. They were bred and kept as units of production. When they arrive at a home, their nervous system doesn't recognize safety as a possibility.
And the veterans adopting them—what are they looking for?
Many are looking for a reason to get up in the morning, a living thing that depends on them. The dogs need to learn trust; the veterans need to rebuild it. It's mutual.
How long does the transformation take?
There's no fixed timeline. Some dogs settle in weeks. Others take months to stop flinching. The program doesn't rush it. They match carefully and provide ongoing support so neither the dog nor the person feels abandoned in the process.
Why beagles specifically from this facility?
They were available and they needed help urgently. But the breed itself—small, affectionate, responsive—makes them good candidates for the work. Once they understand they're safe, they bond deeply.
What happens if a match doesn't work?
The organization has a support structure. They don't just hand over a dog and disappear. There's group training, access to resources, a community of other adopters. The goal is to make sure both the dog and the person succeed.