Pudge goes to school

At Rochester's Jefferson Elementary School last Tuesday morning, first-graders loitered at their lockers, greeting friends and slipping off parkas and boots. Reece Trahan tiptoed along the second-floor hallway, keeping a loose grasp on the harness of the big black dog who loped at his left side. Reece's fingers played on the harness as they walked, gripping, releasing, gripping, releasing, a quiet gesture in the din of the day's start.

Reece has severe autism. Pudge is a specially trained service dog who came from a school near Toronto last March to be Reece's guide and protector. In the year since, the nearly 3-year-old Labrador has become Reece's first friend, an obvious source of comfort and the first chink in the wall that autism has created between Reece and the people who love him.

It was a year of firsts: sleeping through the night, more relaxed family outings and evenings at home, a vacation for Reece's parents, Brad and Joanie.

But this day had been set aside for a first they'd anticipated since before the dog's arrival: Pudge was going to school.

In the preceding months, the school had prepared, with meetings and memos, a letter home to parents, a school assembly. Brad Trahan and Pudge's trainer, Chris Fowler, program director of National Service Dogs in Kitchener, Ontario, tried to soothe parental concerns about allergies (kids aren't allowed too near to Pudge; there have been no problems in 13 years of placing dogs) and biting (if Pudge were a biter, he'd have flunked out of training school). Signs were posted at the school's front door, and at the doors of all the rooms Reece uses: the gym, the library, his homeroom and the room for students with autism spectrum disorders.

Fowler came down for the special occasion, and to check on Reece and Pudge's progress. As a special treat, he also brought a friend: Brodie Morin, 16, of Cambridge, Ontario, who 13 years ago received the first dog Fowler had trained to help kids with autism.

Pudge is the only NSD dog in the United States. One other American family is on the NSD 2 1/2-year waiting list. A Poughkeepsie, N.Y., training school, Guiding Eyes, has begun placing dogs trained using Fowler's method.

Just before the bus came, Brad looped a purple belt and tether around Reece's waist. It would make a real connection between the boy and the dog's purple work vest. Brad, Reece, Pudge, Fowler, Brodie and his dog Shadow crossed the driveway. At its end, Reece kept walking, but was cut short by his tether to Pudge.

With help from bus driver Roger Gunderson, Reece settled in the back seat, with Pudge laid out in the aisle beside him.

Brodie settled in nearby; Shadow reclined in a seat across the aisle. This self-possessed and articulate teenager was once as nonverbal and distant as Reece is. He got his first dog, Shady, at 3; he didn't speak until he was 9. The dog gives him confidence, he says, reduces his anxiety and allows him to break through what he calls the "wall of autism."

"Before I had Shady, I can only recall a few things," he said. "People ask me what it's like to have a service dog; it's like asking someone what it's like to breathe."

Pudge turned a few heads as he walked through the hallway to Reece's mainstream first-grade class and settled in on the mat Brad had brought for him. Teacher Kate Holcomb was able to calm the hubbub created by the novelty of seeing a dog at school, but more eyes were on Pudge that morning than on the spelling words, "bigger, biggest, faster, fastest."

Reece didn't seem to see the eyes on him as he scribbled in a workbook with a rainbow pencil. Nor did his accompanying special-ed teacher, Kori Ring.

Very soon it was off to yet another assembly, this one for the morning kindergartners in Dee Tiedeman's classroom, where Reece spent last year, without Pudge.

Brad talked about autism, and some of the ways Pudge has made their lives easier.

"Reece hears and understands," he told the children. "When you say hi to him, he may not say hi back, because he can't. But he hears you, and it makes him feel really good."

Fowler went over the rules: Please don't yell at Pudge, pet him or distract him, because he's working hard to help Reece.

Tiedeman asked the children whether they would just go up to someone in the hall and hug them.

"No," they chimed.

"You need to respect the space of the dog just like you would another student," she said.

As the morning progressed, Reece and Pudge moved along to adaptive P.E., art and back to the workroom. Pudge snoozed on his mat while Reece played letter- and color-matching games with Ring. At intervals, Fowler took Ring and paraprofessional Stephani Parlin out for a stroll in the hallway with Pudge, so each could practice holding his leash and using the commands the dog knows best.

Brodie and Shadow ambled along, too.

Brad watched the teenager and his dog.

"I think about Brodie a lot," he said. "I've talked with Brodie's mother, and there are a lot of similarities between Brodie and Reece. We're realistic about our situation, but kids like Brodie could give a lot of families hope."

Maria Elena Baca • 612-673-4409